


Ten-Four

by CoyoteLaugh



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Nomad V, Slow Burn, Trauma, V and Viktor in Trauma Team, this didn't exist so I'm making it exist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 33,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27106954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoyoteLaugh/pseuds/CoyoteLaugh
Summary: Her heart seemed to have some sort of arrhythmia as she balked at Viktor, her head swimming with how fast she had turned towards him.Surely, he didn't mean that the way it had sounded? His eyes were now hidden by the fire's glare in his lenses, but the grin on his face was one-hundred percent shit-eating. Viktor most definitely knew what he had just said.
Relationships: Female V/Victor Vector, Female V/Viktor Vector, V/Viktor Vector, v/victor vector
Comments: 47
Kudos: 373





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> With all the hype about this game, there is a very short stock of fanfiction. And I haven't seen a single one shipping a female V and that deliciously dilfy ripperdoc. So here's my contribution. It's gonna be slow, but not necessarily long. AND I DESPERATELY NEED A BETA READER. Please, I implore anyone. I'm writing this primarily on my phone and any literary help would be incredible!

Viktor new he had been at this for too long when management assigned him and his partner an intern.

He had already heard about her from techies and nurses at the emergency rooms. They called her a bumkin, nomad trash, rolled their eyes when describing the way she drawled her words and how she had a virgin body, devoid of the implants everyone used. During a smoke break at the landing pad, Sweeney from respiratory told the group how she asked to use a vein finder to stick a patient.  
"She doesn't have a single fucking upgrade! She needed an IV to check off, and we were all digging around for a finder! I don't even think we have one!"  
Vic took a drag before he asked, "Did she get the stick though?"  
Sweeney paused.  
"I mean, yeah. First try too."  
"That's actually impressive, doing it old school."  
Vik flicked the butt onto the cement, heading back to his AV-4, he didn't have the patience to shit talk a newbie. He barely finished restocking the ship before another call came in.

Trauma Team had a high turnover rate, so at Vik's age, he was considered a veteran. Even so, the PTSD and inhumane grind got to him. People were broken objects meant to be fixed. Stop the bleeding, get some oxygen in them, plug up some holes. Transport times were short in the AVs, but there were plenty of times when the crafts were damaged in gunfire, had to land for quick repairs, and he and his partner were stuck with a patient for longer than comfortable with limited supplies. There was no care involved with the work, if someone was stable you kept them knocked out, don't talk or bond with them. Time is money and the longer you're with the patient in transport, the less Trauma Team can charge.

Luckily, by the time the new intern was with him, she had learned to be quick in the ER. Out in the field, though, he had to teach her to keep her head on a swivel. She became so lazer focused on tubing a corpo that took too much, he had to pull her away when mercs came to shower them with gunfire. Security almost threw her out of the way before he managed to drag her into another room in the formally habitable office building.

They listened to guns from their security and the mercs while they caught their breath.  
Willis, his partner, was with the AV prepping narcan doses for the patient. 

This girl had to get some optical analyzers, or hearing enhancement, even some fucking radar in the skull would help. What most people took for granted, she probably couldn't even afford.  
"V," his hands on his knees, leaning on a wall, Viktor gave the green EMT his most serious, grave glare.  
"NEVER. Never begin treatment before we have the area secured."  
  
She nodded, hands digging into her hair, the braid that was so clean and brushed at the beginning of the shift now in frizzy disarray. By the way she trembled, looking at the filthy carpet under her boots, and brow furrowed, Vik knew that she knew she fucked up.

An explosion shook the dilapidated walls around them, it seemed to break her loop of self-loathing.

Security came on the coms, informing them that the patient could not be retrieved. They were now working on securing their path back to the AV. Since V did not have a bio tracker, he had to confirm that she was with him.

The newbie sat against the wall opposite him, now leaning her head back and looking at the stained ceiling above them.  
"This is my fault."

Vik sat down too, "better the mercs got him then try to take down the AV."

"We could have gotten him in there before then, if I hadn't been such a..." she winced, "fuuucking dumbass."

Self doubt, self blame, all such green things to be worrying about. Victor new this, he remembered it from when he was green. The tight feeling of failure and stress in your chest. Wracking your brain after a call, replaying it over and over, thinking of all the things you could have done differently for a better outcome.

"They wanted him dead. Don't fuck with 'what-ifs'. We have to save our asses before we can save other asses. A dead medic saves no lives."

She sighed, then lolled her head down to look him in the eye. There were no reflective glares behind her irises, no metal lenses zooming in on him. She was in her early twenties, but her naivety in the field made her seem much younger than he felt.  
She couldn't optically analyze him, but he could analyze her, something he hadn't done yet. She really had no implants, nothing in her body. No synthetic tendons, no security grips in her palms. Her eyes were just hers, an almost childlike feature in Night City. They were a blue-grey, and dilated as he stared at her, her heart rate decreasing as danger abated.

He was lost in ugly, perfectly repairable scars that flecked her skin, when she arched and eyebrow and broke his calm respect for her by _rolling her eyes at him._  
He tilted his head at her, looking incredulous as she let out a long, sophomoric "oh, _pleeeeeease_. Give me a fucking break."

Out of all the insults and catty banter he had heard about her, he never got the impression that she was a brat.

"Save the one-line platitudes for inspirational posters. I know I'm being irrational, just let me wallow in it for a bit."

So, she isn't a brat, just self-aware. Victor couldn't help but chuckle, then laugh as he shook his head. V smirked, perhaps finally finding some commraderie in this profession that would eat anyone alive.


	2. Chapter 2

There was no Trauma Team where she was from.

Some local companies provided medical care, docs with money, usually backed by a gang or one of the 7 nations, they wouldn't touch you if you weren't one of them, not without a steep, steep price.

Broken trailers composing towns may have a nurse or disgraced doctor in their midst that locals could go to. Strong communities helped each other out, and a broke, chem addicted doctor taught V all she knew before she set out for Trauma Team's program.  
Doc Spiv had the books, the lectures, the programs and the knowledge that taught her anatomy, physiology, the mechanisms of drugs, how implants and alterations effected the body. He taught her the basics of coding to troubleshoot prosthetics that went wrong. She practiced on him, with an old datapad linked up to him, when his old implants went whacky. He paid her to help out and to learn.

"We ain't got shit out here when things get fucked. Know this shit and keep yours well and healthy." Everything was shit and fuck to Spiv. He was old and bulky, did some fighting for fun when he worked at a Pacifica hospital. But he was a horny bastard when he was younger and fucked a few of the wrong bitches and was ran out of the city. He came back to his old desert hometown a couple decades ago, sometimes mentioned a daughter he had about V's age.

Spiv's stories and lessons prepped V for Trauma Team and for Night City. She was ready not just academically, but also emotionally.

"Get this shit fuckin' right or you're gonna kill the wrong damn person and lose your fuckin' job and your shit limbs!" He was particularly harsh when it came to meds and contraindications, V figured he had a fuck up with it in his time.  
By the time she had enrolled into Trauma Team's education program, she already knew everything she needed to pass the exams.  
And Spiv had already hardened her skin to be ready for her poor, nomadic roots to be the butt of jokes. She was scrutinized harder than any of the other students, she had her accent made fun of in such asinine ways, she worked twice as hard to make up for her lack of technological enhancements, had to justify her place there when she had no formal education, all while working side gigs repairing computers and tech so she could save up for an optical scanner. To be able to see veins and organs and diagnose patients with just a glance would improve her abilities ridiculously. She'd be more marketable as a medic, could work her way up into med school, could improve conditions in her home town.

But god damn it, it was tough. It was tough and lonely, and she was broke and always exhausted. Shunned from conversations and socializing at work, she even considered breaking Spiv's number one rule when a fellow techie with a nice smile showed interest in her.  
But "don't fuckin' shit where you fuckin' eat" rang in her ears when his interest became apparently only physical.

Maybe she'll meet some decent folks when she can pay her bills and have enough time off to sleep _and_ have fun.

Things for V improved when her internship went from the ER to the AVs. For once, she could work with someone who didn't treat her like an incompetent green bean.  
Viktor and Willis didn't teach her much in the way of being a medic, but they both taught her how to _survive_ being a medic.

If school and the ER tore V down emotionally, Victor and her team helped build her up. They never chastised her for needing a data screen to see a patient's internal organs, they never forgot that she didn't have the tech they did. Willis stood back and let her work, knowing she was capable, knowing that she knew her shit and not making her prove her abilities.

When they did step in, it was because V had no idea how to survive in Night City. The first few shifts with them were rough, but by the end of the first week she knew to keep eyes on the doors and corners, to curb her instinct to tend to a patient so that security could do their job, to always be listening for something around her to change, and to always watch her partners' six.

Willis, as Viktor's assistant and a part-timer, kept back so V could learn her role better. He was around her age and had grown up on the streets, was quirky and moved around a lot, used lingo she didn't understand fully and generally bounced and joked and seemed like a kid to her.

Their security rotated often, but Tonya was a regular who always had a different brand of cigarettes, and let V bum them to "experience tobacco in all it's different varieties". She was tall and strong and surprisingly eloquent and well-read for someone who shot guns for a living. Tonya often lent her books, and knew about all the different brands of implants and options out there, giving V recommendations for what she should be saving up for.

Their pilot was always Stefan, who only spoke broken english, and without a translator V avoided him, feeling stupid for never learning Spanish fluently. He was never shy about understanding her though, frequently annoyed when she couldn't respond to him and spitting out a "puta" in her direction.

Their gunner was Tom. Tom never really spoke. He was too tall and too bulky, his jaw was too square and he only ate from one noodle shop downtown where he never spoke a word to order, they just knew he wanted tofu ginger udon. V had no idea how he survived, let alone kept up his physique, with that diet.

Viktor was her mentor. And probably the closest thing she had to a friend. He was older than most medics, only because people drop the profession early for greener pastures or burn out. He was hard on her about her lack of awareness, but never insulted her. He even praised her for her skills, flabbergasted that she could start an IV without visual enhancement, or do adequate compressions when their thumper busted in a firefight. He had explained that most basic, analog skills were never practiced or even learned with all the tools and tech TT had at their disposal. He even asked her to re-teach him how to start an IV.  
  
She shrugged, "sure, I've been starting IVs for years."

The medic arched an eyebrow at that, "years, eh?"

"You gotta do what you gotta do in the desert."

Down time wasn't much of a thing, but when it occured she was comforted with how everyone got along. Tonya seemed to be the glue that kept that going. Always asking everyone for updates on how life was going at the start of the shift. V being new, she kept to herself, but learned that Vik loved boxing, Tom was excited about a new anime coming out (Tonya asked, he just grunted and nodded), and Stefan's daughter played the cello. V even found herself unintentionally sharing more about her life with Tonya around.

"So this up-and-comer, Hernandez, what d'ya think about him, Vikky?" Tonya's arm draped over his chair, her legs perfectly stable as the AV shifted and dropped on its way to JapanTown. Tom needed his noodles.

"He ain't bad, decent footwork." V wondered if he had some sort of upgrades in his arms, the sleeves of his jumpsuit were practically ripping at the seams. Willis just crossed his arms in a flattering matter, sometimes she caught him glimpsing down at them, making them bulge a bit more. The poor kid.

"You ready to see me, Vik?" Willis put up his fists, punching the air, "it's toniiiiight, you better not miss it!" He sing-songed.

"What?" V laughed.

Viktor shook his head and sighed, "you're gonna get your ass kicked Will."

Tonya smiled, "don't be a dick, Vik. I would not miss your fight for anything, my Will." With Tonya, you were hers. "My Willis, my V, my Viktor, my Tom."

Viktor rolled his eyes, "I'll be there, Will, someone's gotta patch you up when lose."

"Shush, Vikky, he will do well. Will you be there as well, V?"

V hated how Tonya could bring everyone's attention to you at one time, the woman commanded too much, and she wanted to be just like her.

"Um, sure, where is it?"

Willis's eyes brightened, "Watson district! It's informal, just some punches being thrown for fun."

"Where do you live, V?" Viktor started scrolling through a map on his datapad.

"Watson, actually. I haven't really had a chance to get to know the area, though."  
The AV rumbled as Stefan landed it on a roof close to Tom's noodle shop.

"Not a problem, V. I'll come by after work, show you 'round." She saw that he used the employee roster to find her address, then closed out of the map.

"Sure," she gulped. She hadn't been socially active since arriving in Night City.  
A glance at Tonya revealed that a very sly, knowing smile was in her eyes.  
V gulped again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still looking for a beta, I have much more already written!


	3. Chapter 3

Usually, when V came back home after a shift, she showered, ate something besides noodles while sitting naked on her couch, and then browsed the net for cyberware. She had a wish list and every evening it grew into a tier list. Then she'd sleep.

However, tonight she was going to "have fun" and "hang out" with people. Coworkers. She was the rookie of the bunch, the kid, so she wanted to step up from that, be a peer.

She ate first, grabbed a cola and fried up some spam as she took off her coveralls and put on some news. She had about an hour before she expected Vik to come by.

Drenching the too-salty spam in ketchup, she hopped on her counter and thought about flaking out. There were plenty of gadgets for her to fix. A new visor needed a new screen and that would get her at least 300 eddies when it sold. Trauma Team's stipend covered her rent and food, but not much else.

She had never been anxious around people before, but she had been born and raised in the Mojave, with the same people who knew her as a child. She had nothing to be anxious about in the desert, at least not socially. The city was different. People made fun of you for not having metal in your face.

Her door alarm notified someone was trying to visit her. It was such a foreign sound to her she almost choked on her discount spam.

He could not be here already. She hadn't showered, didn't inventory what clothes were still clean, hadn't washed the sweat and grime from her soul yet.

The video link on her door flashed on,

"My V, I know you're in."

Dammit Tonya.

"What the fuck Tonya?" V wasn't sure she was working the com correctly.

The beautiful security guard rolled her eyes, "oh please, V, I know you need my assistance. Let me up."

Tonya seemed taller out of her battle armor, and in an elegant but simple outfit of maroon and gold. For the first time V was seeing her coworker in all her casual glory. Gold tattoos sparkled along her lithe form, heels commanded her attention as they clicked on the floor, and vibrant maroon makeup flashed against her dark skin. Her hair was out of the cover that protected it from chaffing against her helmet, and it's coils shifted from her natural black, to gold, and back, reminding V of fireflies in the early summer plains.

"Yes, my V, keep gawking, we have all the time in the world," an irritated hand landed on an irritated hip.

V laughed, "I'm sorry, I'm just so use to seeing you... all like GI Jane and shit! But you're like, fuckin' hot!"

Tonya rolled her eyes, "and you look like a discarded muppet. I'm here because I know you have never had a night out in the town."

V crossed her arms and pffted, "so? It's just a boxing match."

"Trust me, V, it's not just a boxing match. It's a boxing match which a man has asked to escort you to."

"Oh please, 'escort'? What is this, a cotillion?" V went to finish her spam, but Tonya slapped it out of her hand.

"You will not eat that, my V, please don't poison yourself with filth. Viktor will probably treat you to dinner anyway."

"I'm starting to dislike you, Tonya, I thought we were cool. But you come into my house, slap around my spam-"

"And you're dressed like a drowned rat. Let me see your closet."

Tonya's intrusion started rough, but eventually, forty-five minutes went by in which V actually had some fun. Some pure, almost girlish fun. Tonya insisted on cutting her hair "this look only works in 'Little House on the Prairie'", but V wanted to keep the length, so the sides were shaved and a french braid was plaited, then lined with some neon threading. While V showered, Tonya went through her wardrobe and chose clothes that she felt showed off V's body and personally, adding some tights and accessories that she had brought herself.

She made V shave her legs which was like tearing down the Amazon, and put on makeup that Tonya insisted said: "I may fuck you, or kill you". Tonya then brought out an extradermal sticker that analyzed vitals, blood alcohol level, and various other toxins while sending a gps signal to both Tonya, and Trauma Team.

"I trust Viktor, but you may get lost, little nomad, and you are very tasty looking tonight. Vikky will not be able to resist."

"Wait, 'resist'? Geeze, Tonya I'm not gonna fuck Vik."

A gold eyebrow arched over amber eyes, "oh? Is that not what you want?"

"That's, like, a major breech of protocol. Like, no, he'd lose his fuckin' job."

"Tom and Willis have been sleeping together for three weeks."

"That's not the same, Vik's my superior and - wait. Fuck. What?!" V's eyes bulged, "WHAT. You're messin' with me, you're like. No. No, that's not happening."

Tonya chuckled low and haughty, "you have so much to learn," she tapped a finger under V's chin, then turn towards the door, "fuck Vik or no, have fun tonight. Be wanted and sought after. Be strong." She winked, then left.

Viktor would be over any minute.


	4. Chapter 4

Viktor arrived at V's apartment after getting lost in the megalith of a complex. She had sounded confused on the com system, but smiled when she opened her door, actually inviting him in.

The place was pretty spartan, and smelled of fried spam and hair product. Her new haircut took him off guard, but it suited her. Tiny geometric designs had been shaved into the sides of her scalp, illuminated with florescent threads. Combined with stark, bold eye makeup, and her dark complexion, she resembled the indigenous warriors of her ancestors.

Still a nomad, but no one in Night City would be messing with her tonight.

"What're working on here?" the only clutter was on a desk, tools and electronics scattered about.

She was pulling on a pair of boots over neon patterned stockings, "oh, just some extra income. I patch up whatever I can find and resell."

Vik nodded, "smart thing to do."

"Heh, thanks. What's in the bag?"

He adjusted a duffle over his shoulder, "just a jump bag. It's got some basics in it for when Willis gets his lip cut. Didn't want to leave it in the car, some good shit in here."

"Are we driving to the match?"

"Nah, it's close by. It's just a maze getting there. Figured we could grab something to eat."

She smiled to herself, "sounds great! I've been barred from eating spam ever again."

"Oh? Sounds like a pretty grave sentence."

She turned off the lights, opened the door and he followed her out.

"Don't know how I'm gonna get my daily sodium requirements now," she stuffed her hands in her bomber's pockets and stepped in stride with him.

The large elevator was spacious enough for a crowd, but it was just them on this trip. Vik set the bag down and, leaning on the wall, turned towards V, "I like the hair thing you got goin' on."

She looked up at him, "thanks, I haven't had an excuse to cut it, work's kept most of my time."

"I don't think you'll have to wait too long to be done with the probation period," he crossed his arms, "you're flying through your check offs. And you know your shit."

As their floor approached, the elevator groan and shook, standard stuff but he still grabbed her arm when her stance shifted.

"Thanks, this lift is junk."

"Let's get on some even footing, then," he kept his hand on her upper arm, picked up the duffle, and then introduced her to to sights and sounds of Waston.

They first made their way to where the rings were. Fighters trained with bots and seating was being set up for the coming matches. Viktor introduced V to some buddies of his. She said she recognized some from the ER. There was a young techie who asked how her internship was going. He initially was going to leave them to catch up, but the way he looked at her caused Vik to stay close. He dropped the jump bag at the corner he knew Willis would be at, then lead her away from the ER tech and showed her off to some others as the "best damn intern he'd ever had."

"I'm the only intern you've had, Vik."

"And all the others will pale before your shadow. Let's get something to eat, fights won't start for a while."

He led her through alleys and nooks, telling her to make note of her surroundings, cause she'll want to come back here, and this place didn't have an official address. 

A few leary figures annoyed them on their way, but he just kept one hand in his pocket, and the other around her shoulder, protectively, not possessively. He steered her to a little hole-in-the-wall. The interior was barely large enough to sit four people, but a bright, flashing burrito marked the location.

He opened the door for her, and the expansive menu scrolled behind the counter, behind the owner's head.

"Hey, Marv, can I get one spam burrito?"

The owner rang them up, glancing from V to Viktor and giving him a wink, "will this be another regular Vikkie?"

"Hopefully," he gave V a nudge with his hips and winked down at her, while she gave him a plainly unimpressed look.

"One burrito? You short on eddies?"

Smiling, he pulled out a chair for her at a small table, then sat down himself, "oh trust me, one of these burritos will be enough for the both of us. Marv's got some sort of secret. He's a burrito wizard."

She arched an eyebrow, "well, it smells good in here, I'll give him that."

The burrito that Marv brought out was nearly as large as Vik's forearm. Wrapped in foil and chopped in half, cheese and jalapenos oozed from the middle, with steam wafting between the EMTs.

"Holy SHIT."

Vik smiled, "what'd I tell ya?"

Cubes of chopped spam and cheddar globled out when V hoisted the thing to her mouth, as she took a bite, grease dripped down her arms.

Viktor chuckled as he ate, having years of experience in Marv's burritos, he had developed the perfect technique to eating them. Messily. 

"This is fucking GOOD. Shit, Vik." Her words could barely be made out as she engulfed the food as cheesily as he did. 

Conversation ceased between them as classic americana cuisine was devoured. V was assisted with several single use towelettes when she was finished. Vik had apparently eaten every drop of artery-clogging holiness. As the two left the eatery, V transferred a generous tip to Marv, and promised to be back once her cholesterol went back down.

On their way back, V was more independent. She was less willing to let Vik touch her or lead her around. She swooned over the burrito, swearing off any from vending machines for the rest of her life. She joked and laughed with him, and as they entered back to the gym area, her expression glowed when seeing that Tonya had arrived.

The kid would be alright. She'll fit in just fine.


	5. Chapter 5

V had drank. She had cheered, she had yelled. There had been several fights in the “mostly meat” category. Like Willis, all competitors could not have excessive armored implants. No steel plates or artificial tendons that gave the punching power of a semi. She had found herself engulfed in the craze of the fight, her energy syncing with those around her as music blared and tensions rose.

Willis had taken as much as he gave, hopping around with his excitable energy, jabbing and dodging around an opponent slightly larger than him. Next to V, Tonya yelled and cheered, turning ferocious even in her elegant attire. Viktor watched from a coach's corner, giving the kid encouragement, handing him water. Towards the back on the opposite side of the ring, V noticed Tom quietly watching. At the end of the match he would immediately be at Will's side, giving mumbled praise.

Will had lost, but it was a fantastic fight. Vik super-glued his eyebrow back together and V took the liberty of draining a seroma that had developed under Willis's bicep. He was too exhausted to care about getting stuck with a thick needle, his adrenaline-filled smile cursing her sneak attack.

Despite the injuries, Willis was back on shift the next day. The crew of AV-142 gathering to check off their supplies and equipment at noon. Stims had cleared up most of his brusing, his eyebrow almost back to normal, and he couldn't shut up about the fight.

“I almost had 'im, I did! I re-watched it before work this morning, oh daaaaamn I could have knocked that gonk OUT!”

“Maybe, if he hadn't made your liver quiver.” Viktor strode away from the landing pad, letting Tonya and V continue to help Will bask in his own glory.

V halted in her counting of some tubing, yelling out to Vik that they needed a pediatric chest compressor. He turned and nodded, disappearing down the staircase that led to the hospital.

“Did you have fun last night, V?” Tonya sat in the “captain's” chair at the head of the gurney. V glanced over her shoulder, making sure their morphine wasn't expired. They used so much of it she knew it couldn't be, but it was busy work before their first call came in.

She didn't like the officer's sly smile, but humored her anyway “yes, it was an absolute blast,” she made certain the pediatric capsule doses were in good working order, they had to slot into the compressor that did all cardiac work for them.

“And did our Viktor take you home?”

Pediatric supplies were typically left unchecked, as they were used so rarely. Only the richest families could afford Trauma Team, and those kids always received top notch care before they ever had an emergency, “he walk me back to my apartment, yes.”

“And dinner?”

Everything was good, they just needed the compressor and 142 would be in top-notch shape, “oh yeah, he showed me Marv's Burritos!”

“Excuse me?!” Tonya's eyes went wide and her jaw dropped, “he took you to Marv's?”

“Yep, it was amazing!”

Tonya's hand went to her face, massaging her brow line, “oh, he did blow it. I should have called him before hand!”

V rolled her eyes, “so it wasn't the romantic evening you wanted it to be? Tonya stop shipping your coworkers over ring fights. I still had fun!”

Through her disappointment, the guard still smiled, “my efforts worked with Tom and Willis, I know chemistry when I smell it.”

“I still don't believe that, I just can't see it.”

“Oh? Look.” Tonya's eyes pointed out the back of the AV, where Willis chatted about the fight and Tom, arms crossed, listened intently.

“That doesn't mean anything, just because-”

“Watch.”

V shut herself up, and inconspicuously watched while fiddling with the straps on the gurney. Sure enough, Willis pointed to his glued brow, and even though the women couldn't hear the conversation, the medic shrugged at the injury, doing his best tough-guy act. Tom's face, however, softened, and a large, cybernetically enhanced hand went to the nearly-healed cut and tenderly touched it. Will's face also softened, the act dropped, and he smiled up at the gunner.

V looked away, mumbling “shit, shit shit”s under her breath as Tonya chuckled, “Oh V, of such little faith.” The guard climbed out the ship, her loud boots breaking the men out of their tender moment, as Vik returned with supplies, and a large case marked with Trauma Team's logo.

“Got the compressor we needed, and here's a little something for you, kiddo.” He slid the case across the floor of the AV before hopping in himself, his glasses reflecting the noon light.

“What's this?” She hoisted the armored box into her lap as Viktor put the compressor away in a shelf over her head.

Sitting on the gurney next to her, he took a small key card and opened it, the hinges new and still stiff, “I made sure the commanders up top short-listed this request.”

Sitting in perfectly-formed foam, was a brand-new trauma team helmet. Teal-green on the bottom half, the white face-shield branded with the red star-of-life.

“Shit, Vik, I dunno what to say,” She carefully lifted it out of its snug setting, inspecting it all over.

“Just try it on, V,” he showed her the button and clasps that controlled the opening mechanisms, smooth and silent motors widened the neck opening for her noggin' to to through. Their hands touched as she figured out what switches did what, and then the helmet was on, snuggly, like a second skull and smelling like a new car.

“The fit's perfect!”

“Tonya may have taken some measurements when she was doing your hair last night.” He chuckled.

The intern beamed, taking in the enhanced sound from the speakers, the HUD that scrolled the statuses of other crews, a map that showed current calls placed.

“There's a few extra bells and whistles too. Most of the information you're seeing is always displayed on our Kiroshies, but I made sure management knew to add it to your helmet. You won't be left in the dust from now on.”

The nomad stood up, spinning around, amazed at the ability of the built-in gimble to adapt to her movement. She looked all around, scanned the specs of the AV, took information as she scanned the shelves to see the exact stock they had, looked at her own palms to see her own pulse and oxygen levels show up as she scanned them, “This is incredible! I can't believe this!”

She spun around again, wanting to scan the cockpit, but dinged her brand new helmet on a ceiling handle and lost her already spinning balance, falling over Vik and whacking her shin on the gurney.  
He caught her around the waist as she let out a “shit!”

“Easy, there, kid. Don't let the information overload get to ya'”

She laughed, righting herself, and thanking the medic profusely. The rest of the crew joined in on seeing their newbie bright-eyed and bushy-tailed at her new equipment, Tonya only a little upset that Vik let her open it without the rest of them.


	6. Chapter 6

The sun was low, about to set. The light burned his eyes from behind skyscrapers, and Viktor threw on his glasses, transitioning them quickly to a dark shade. His helmet rolled along the floor of the AV next to V's, airing them out after their hours long inter-facility transport from Reno. It had been their only call during the shift, but it was a shit one. The patient talked too much, there was no reason for him to move hospitals, and he kept asking V to take off her helmet in the sleazy “let me see ya smile!” patriarchal sort of way.

She had turned from taking down his vitals on a datapad, and in her most dead-pan voice said “trust me Mr. Jameson, I am smiling” and turned back to her work almost immediately.

He had rambled on and on, about how he loved seeing women in the workplace, always had! Always will! So long as they're friendly, as they smile, and they talk and know how to take a joke. Tonya never moved from her stance in the back corner of the AV, never once lost her footing on the long flight, and never once spoke a word.

Vik had wanted so badly to dose him up with something to knock him out, so they all could get some rest. The man's chart had so many downers on it already, he knew it would take way too much to justify putting him out. Luckily, after about twenty-minutes of no responses, and nothing but shielded and covered faces turning to his direction, he quieted down. Every now and then asking Vik or Willis if they like duck hunting, ever shot an elk?

He was glad to be rid of Mr. Jameson, lover of women in the workplace and shooter of lab-grown fowl.

V tossed him some electrodes and clean gurney wraps as she sauntered across the landing pad. Her smile was bright as she threw her arms up and did a small dance “He just pissed off AMY!”  
Vik chuckled, barely able to see her as anything but a silhouette in the setting sun, but before he could ask for details on how the notoriously badass surgeon responded, Stephan leaned out from the pilot's window and informed him that they'll probably get posted to Pacifica Stadium.

“Not Pacifica. . .” Viktor sighed, then translated for V.

“What's so bad about posting Pacifica?” She sat down next to him on the floor's ledge, the heels of their boots resting on asphalt. 

“Think about it, V. No one native to Pacifica can afford us. And anyone who can isn't there for the roller coaster and scenic views.”

She leaned on her elbows, “that just means more trauma, and we love trauma.”

He rested his elbows on his knees and looked back at her. All youth and spunk in this moment, but he had seen her quiet and low too.  
“It also means units are spread thin. They expect us to cover a lot of ground at the Stadium. It might be a nice, smooth posting, or we might had to fly to the other side of the city at a moments notice.

She shrugged, “I just go where the little black box tells me to.”

He squeezes her shoulder as he gets up, grabbing his helmet and taking off his glasses, “We best be going, then. You know Tom will want to stop for some noodles beforehand.”

There's a cluster of kids on the dilapidated landing pad of the stadium. They scatter away from the area as 142 circles to land, leaving behind trash and a soggy mattress. Tonya jumps out as soon as Stefan has put the AV into gear, stretching.

“I am so sick of being on this ship! Will, please tell me you brought some cards?” After quickly clearing the pad of any stragglers, she takes off her helmet and lounges on a dirty chair next to a broken table.

Tom and Stephan also jump from their cockpits, Tom immediately opening his take-out soup.

Viktor wouldn't mind passing the time with a game of cards, but he notices that V has wandered to the edge of the landing pad, looking down at the shanty town built inside. Deciding to join her, he sees that the tents and shacks are more sparse than the last time he posted here. There are scorch marks on the ground, signs of a big altercation recently.

“Can't believe the city lets people live like this,” her brow is furrowed, eyes scanning the small details below them.

“Pacifica is it's own jurisdiction, which conveniently leaves it out of Night City's statistics” he pulls out a cigarette, offering her one.  
She takes it, glancing up at him as he lights it for her.

They stand in silence for a few moments, until V points out a DIY swimming pool in the field, and they beginning looking for interesting details in the low-budget neighborhood.

“I guess it's not so different from most nomad camps out in the Mojave.”  
They sit down on the cracked tarmac, kicking away some stubborn trash that the AV hadn't blown back.  
“You grow up in something like this?” He studies her face, she seems older now as she thinks back to her old life.

“Not quite, little more established. Actual buildings and trailers. Same feel though. Lots of us were kids who's parents left rez's years ago,” she takes a drag.

“Where was this?”

“South of Death Valley, south of Vegas. Never really had a name, it just kept growing and growing.”

Viktor was impressed. That was a long, long way from Night City, her trek must have taken days without a flight.

“You miss it at all?”

She looked up at him, a confused smirk, “'course. It's home. Where I grew up. Mostly grew up.”

“I've only ever known this city. Only ventured into the badlands a few times in my youth.”  
She adjusts herself, and they're now sitting shoulder to shoulder, their teal coveralls touching.

“The Mojave is better – well, in my opinion, more beautiful than the badlands. Mostly untouched by corpos,” her eyes are wistful now, staring at nothing as the sun sneaks further below the horizon, “there's old trails and caves everywhere, mesas that are natural skyscrapers, and believe it or not, so many beautiful shades of brown. The expanse of nothing around you could almost swallow you, no cities on the horizon, hardly a blip in the sky...” she laughs at herself, “uhg I feel old talking like this. Like I'm reminiscing about 'the old country',” she turns to look up at him.

Both of their breath catches, he knows but won't acknowledge that. They're use to being so close to each other in the AV, that can't be helped, but outside and in the open, there's no reason to be shoulder to shoulder, hands almost touching and faces too close as she talks about her home. This close he can see laugh lines on her youthful face, small scars on the bridge of her nose and eyebrow, freckles on dark skin boosted by years of being in the desert sun. Strands of her black hair hang in front of her gray eyes, and he finds himself wanting to tuck them behind her ear lined with silver and turquoise studs.

She may feel 'old' talking about her past life, but in this moment he feels too young and suddenly too eager. She has experiences and has lived a life he never will in all of her twenty-some years. She's not the 'kiddo' or the 'newbie' he had filed her away as until now.

But she's still an intern, and he's still a mentor. And he has to respect those lines.

“You're probationary period ends after tomorrow's shift.” He doesn't know why he says that, of all things. She isn't suppose to know before her final review with the captains and commanders.

He eyes widen with her smile, “really?!”

“Yeah, ki-” he stops himself, “yeah, the paperwork's all filed, they'll request your final interview sometime tonight.”

Covering her face in her hands she quietly squeaks with excitement whispering 'oh my god's over and over again.

“Shhhh, V, keep it down, you're not 'sposed to know-”  
She plants a big 'ol smooch smack on his cheek, it's innocent and friendly, but her hands cup his jaw firmly to turn his head and her fingers tangle at the hair on the base of his neck.

“Thank you! Thank you Vik! Holy shit!”

“Easy there, kid, don't be revving up an old engine that can't go that fast.”

She laughs, rolls her eyes, and he helps her up. Before she can practically skip back to the rest of the crew, he holds onto her forearm and looks down on her with a stern face, “I'm serious, V, you have to pretend you don't know you passed. They prefer to have you squirm under their gaze before they drop the results. Being cocky won't win you any favors.”

Still smiling she nods and rights herself, tucking the hairs behind her ear like he had urged to do moments before, “right, got it. Well, I'll try to act the part, but there's only a few gazes I'd like to squirm under.”  
She fucking winked at him.

“And theirs isn't one of them,” she walked, with a slight bounce, to the table where Will, Tonya, and Tom smoked and played cards. Tonya's eyes sparkled behind her hand as she greeted V, then slid her eyes over to Vik with an ever-so-slight nod.

The medic ignored the guard's insinuations, but still had to adjust himself as he strode to the opposite side of the AV, where Stefan grinned and winked at him.

“Don't start.”

Stefan certainly intended to, but the tone dropped for an emergency call, and the dispatcher's AI voice sounded through the crew's coms.

“One-forty-two, code three. One-forty-two, code three. Head to north Westbrook.”

Viktor and Stefan exchanged confused looks, they had to be the furthest unit from Westbrook, but a quick check of the unit map and they realized they were the only ones available.

Everyone piled in as Stefan warmed the engines, a quiet going over the crew as helmets slid on and hand rails were grabbed.  
“One-forty-two en route.” Vik responded.

The AI responded, “Coordinates provided, please standby on arrival, MAXTAC en route. Do not engage until area cleared by MAXTAC.”

Shit.

“Please switch to channel B for further details.”

This time, V responded before he could, “ten-four.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next were going to be one, but I've split them up because chapter 7 is going to be heavy. As a TW, there will be child injury/abuse described, and I'm torn about writing what I want and not coming off as too gratuitous, because the story is based on actual events I've encountered and war stories shared by coworkers, and fits the darkness of cyberpunk. I'll probably just have a mock report written up to describe what happens in the call, for those that don't want to relive my trauma with me.
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and kudos! I know this burn has been slow but it is getting revved up.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those sensitive about child harm, I have breaks (----) denoting a section to skip.  
> And I want to thank Clydae for beta reading!

“One-forty-two on channel B,” every hair on the back of V's neck was standing up. She looked to Vik, to Willis, to Tonya. Their bodies were tense, conveying the sudden silence of the situation with helmeted faces.

Instead of the calm AI voice that typically dispatched them, a shaky, but confident female answered back, “Okay one-forty-two, we gotta little bit of a fucked up situation here.”

“Ooh, it's Markey, this is bad” Willis whispered.

“We're listening Markey, whaddya got?”

A sigh over the com came on, “oh thank fuck it's you, Vik. Look, we have a couple that just had their first kid in Westwood, they got a Tee-Tee chip for the kid, but not themselves. Kid was supposed to have a checkup yesterday, but there was no answer on their phones. This was called in by the pediatrician, but we got a hold of the mother on the AI line and AI checked everything out.

Five minutes ago the chip starts pinging us. Kid's heart rate is going up and down, well over two-fifty a min at times. I called the fucking mother, the fucking mother is NOT alright, and she's gonked out of her god damn mind. The AI didn't catch the pure crazy coming out of this lady. We have no idea what the fuck is going on, but MAXTAC is on their way, trying to get into the house's cameras. I'm scrolling the kid's vitals to ya now.”

“Thanks, Markey, we're about two minutes out,” Viktor's voice was grave, but his motions were rigid and controlled.

On V's helmet's HUD, a two-month-old male's vitals for the last six minutes scrolled. V noticed the trends of a high heart rate and blood pressure, followed by an even higher one. She looked at stress levels and cortisol too, they were fluctuating all over the place.

“I mean, it could just be a sick kid guys, maybe the mother is gonked but the kid's probably just stressed,” Willis, always looking at the bright side. But a mother suffering from cyberpsychosis with a young baby … that was a terrible combination.

And V knew something was very, very wrong, everyone knew it.

“Shit, look at the temp guys,” V saw it begin to spike, it was normal a moment ago, but it was climbing, rapidly.

“Sheeeet is there a fucking fire, Markey?”

“Negative, we see it too. MAXTAC just landed, I'm patching you in with them.”

V could feel her heart pounding, stomach churning as the AV lost altitude, prepping to land in a lush green lawn next to a shiny, sleek house.  
“Will, grab the quarantine bubble and trauma kit, make sure the drill is in there too.”  
“Good thing we got that compressor,” Vik began grabbing things as well, V shafted the gurney to a smaller size. The kid's temp was at 42 Celsius, and she wasn't going to waste time.

“MAXTAC, this is Tee-Tee one-forty-two, we're landing.”

A gruff, but distant voice responded, “ten-four. Stand by. We have visuals on the subject but she is not secured yet.”

There was hysterical yelling in the background.

The temperature was 45 degrees Celsius.

“What's the patient's status?” V had never spoken to MAXTAC before. Usually, if they were involved, Trauma Team wasn't needed until the end of the situation.

“Psycho's in possession of the patient, stand by until clear,” too fucking calm, too fucking machine.

Willis adjusted the supplies on the gurney, Tonya checked the safety on her rifle. V watched the temperature keep climbing, “What the fuck is happening? The kid needs care!”

Vik grabbed her arm, stopping her from jumping out the door, “V, wait.”

“Stand by, techie.” the voice sounded annoyed and disgusted, but she obeyed.  
The crew got out of the AV, all their equipment prepped, Tonya and Tom between them and the house, MAXTAC already crawling all over the place. Frantic screaming could be heard inside, and with all the personnel around the house, it was eerily quiet besides that and the hum from the AVs.

There was a single, deafening gunshot.

Shit, shit, fuck.

A second later, the kid's temperature started to decline rapidly, heart rate just a high as before, but the rhythm was very thready looking.

The com crackled, “You techies are clear to come in.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There were many details that V never acknowledged at the scene, but would always remember. Running into the house, HUD showing the path to the kitchen in the shape of a chevron, there were flies clustered on the inside of the windows. How heavy the stench of human feces and vomit were. Expensive furniture and counter tops covered in filth. She stepped right over the mother's body that wore nothing but a shift encrusted with shit and blood.

The shift had tiny, yellow flowers patterned all over a bright, purple background. The strangest things burned into her mind.

Turning into the kitchen, the smell of boiled pork. Willis's shoulders heaved in a gagging motion.

A MAXTAC agent held a blistered, red, limp child in his arms. Somehow still alive, things happened too quickly for her to register. She, Vik, and Will worked like a well-oiled machine. The compressor would not help them here, there was no skin left to adhere it to. Will intubated as Vik inflated the sterile bubble, she tossed him the intraosseous drill and began prepping morphine and a shit load of fluids, her HUD doing the calculations for doses immediately.

The whine of the drill. The smell of the kid's flesh. No crying, no movement. The baby barely moved as she pushed the medication through his bones. As soon as the kid was in the bubble, and the respirator was turned on, they flew out of that hell hole, she almost didn't notice that the mother was still alive, twitching, telling her to “please clean him up. He's so so dirrrrrrrrrty,” her voice a dying record.

V doesn't remember taking control of the scene, she doesn't remember calling the hospital and listing off vitals and medications, doesn't remember that she was the one telling Vik to forgo the compressor, advising Will that the respirations were set at too high a volume for such a small and injured body.

Thirty seconds away from the hospital, the kid coded, heart rate gone and rhythm all over the place, and she grabbed a sterile glove to start gentle, but adequate compressions on the raw chest until landing.

Every god damn Trauma Team doctor, nurse, and techie on shift were waiting for them when they landed. When a kid was involved, they brought out the cavalry. Care was transferred as soon as it was started, pediatric and burn specialists surrounding them, covered in masks, gloves, and gowns and smelling like pure isopropyl alcohol.

Doctor Amy stopped her as a crowd of personnel whisked the gurney and the patient away, V just caught someone say that they had a pulse back, rushing into the enormous elevator.

“Good job, V. Shit, take a breather. We got it from here.” Amy's usually hard eyes were soft, her red hair frazzled, “Just relax, have a cigarette, I'll be up for a report in a few.”

V took off her helmet and gasped for fucking air, turning back to the AV, she saw Will retching over the pad's railing, Tom rubbing his back.

Tonya was slumped with Vik on the AV's sliding door, she was smoking like a chimney. The intern met Vik's eyes, they mirrored the dull, exhaustion she felt. She looked at the mess in the AV, equipment and wires everywhere, wrappers all over the floor, blood.

“Have a smoke, my V,” Tonya offered a gold and brown packet, but V shook her head.

“I need to uhh, uhhhh Imma join Will over there,” she ran to the railing, and barfed her fucking guts out. Heaves wracked through her body until there was nothing left from her lunch, or the week before. Tom's large hand was then on her back, patting her carefully, his face concerned. Hopefully the ground level below the railing was sanctioned off as Trauma Team's vomit zone.

Will had just finished, spitting and sniffing, he shook his head and looked at her, “jeezus the fuckin' smell. The fuckin'” he vomited again. V could only manage weak gags.

“Fuckin' shut up, Will.”  
He laughed weakly, shuddering.

She didn't know what to do now, she felt too antsy for her own body, the adrenaline was crashing her, and it seemed to be doing the same to everyone else. Everyone had the same dazed expression, muttering “fucks” every now and then. She dragged herself back to the AV, took Tonya up on her offer and puffed away, taking, long drags and inhaling them to the bottom of her lungs.

It was a good cigarette.  
“These are my FUBAR smokes. You'll begin to fell a nice . . . calm soon enough.”  
V expected Tonya to be smirking, but her expression was just concerned, almost sweet. “it helps with the nausea, too.”

V threw off her gloves and rubbed her eyes, “What the fuck, Vik? What in the royal fuck was that?”

Viktor took a drag of his own cigarette, “That, V, was probably one of the worst calls I've ever had.”

The guard hummed, “We've seen plenty of blood and guts, but that took the cake on fucked up beyond all reason.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The older medic turned to her, “Don't worry about a report, don't bother cleaning up. They'll relieve us from duty in a few. They're not gonna make us do shit after that.”

Tonya finished her smoke and crushed it under a heavy boot, “All of you will be at my place tonight. Except Stefan if he wishes to be with his family, but no one else has an excuse. We are gonna drink our fucking brains out before they force us all to see shrinks and kumbaya.”

The coms dropped a tone, one different from the emergency signal, but it still sent V on edge.  
“One-forty-two, please stand by for a ten-twenty-one.” The familiar AI was back again.

“What's a fucking twenty-one?” she looked to Vik, she didn't want to do another call, not after this shitstorm.

“Relax, it's a phone call.” His left eye glowed red as it came in, the other end of the line silent to her. “Yes sir,” he answered. A pause, “we did, thank you.” Some hmms, Vik crossed his arms, “she did, didn't she? Yeah, we could all use a breather. Thank you, sir.”

Tom and Willis came moseying back to the AV, both with haunted looks.

“We're off duty for the next two days. I suggest we all take Tonya up on use of her liquor cabinet because they're sending us to the shrinks tomorrow.”

There was meandering, some half-hearted clean up of the ship. Stefan didn't even bother to refuel. V didn't bother to restock. A new crew was coming in that would take care of it all. They all shared more cigarettes, and Tonya said she'd expect everyone at her place in two hours. The sun was gone and the darkness heavy. As everyone went their separate ways out of the elevator, Viktor stopped V with a hand on her back.

“You're not taking the train, are you?”  
She recalled their time at the stadium, it feeling like a million years ago. Their gear was still clean, not smelling of shit and burned skin.  
“That's the plan.”  
His hand moved to her shoulder, “Let me drive you home, don't gotta deal with transit bullshit,” his voice was low, intentionally comforting but after the bullshit they just shared it sounded different to her, “I don't wanna hear how you got into a scuffle because the wrong asshole pissed you off after...this.”  
She let out a small smile, “Good point. Just don't be that asshole.”  
He chuckled, “I wouldn't dream of it.” With an arm around her, he lead her through the parking bay, opening the passenger door to an old economy car.

The exhaustion that crept into her very bones was one she knew too well since starting at Trauma Team. It wasn't physical, except for extraction, there was very little physical taxation when it came to working on such a small patient. The bitter tiredness that seeped into her very being was one of mental work. The anticipation of watching her patient's vitals get so bad, unable to do anything until MAXTAC had cleared them, not knowing what the ever-loving fuck had been happening, not knowing what to expect, and then the brain gymnastics needed throughout patient care to adapt and change their plans of action.

She absolutely slumped into Viktor's passenger seat, resting her head back. After the ker-thunk of the door closing, he had a similar slump in his posture as he climbed in the driver's seat, sitting silently for a moment before turning the ignition.

Eventually, his right arm reached behind her seat as he reversed the vehicle out of Trauma Team's parking garage. They rode with silence through the winding path, passing by the patient parking area and other personnel. A familiar techie waved at them, calling out a “good job” as they drove by. As they exited the medical center's garage, and Vik turned into the streets of Watson, V felt a buzzing and vibration in her cargo pocket.

Oh, her phone. Yeah, she had forgotten she had one of those.

She pulled it out and didn't recognize the number, she also noted quite a few unread text messages. Her phone was something she hardly ever used, preferring to keep her contact personal. So long as she knew when she worked, and when her bills were due, she didn't need constant notifications of anything else.

“Hello?” she answered.

“V? We haven't met, but this is Lieutenant Holloway. Do I have the right number?”

V rubber her nose, “Yeah, this is V.”

“Good, I'm calling to congratulate you on your outstanding performance today, we're reviewing the footage from the Westbrook call, and you showed phenomenal field skills and leadership out there.”

V blinked, but didn't quite care, “Thank you, ma'am.”

“After calls like these, we send our crews to be emotionally evaluated, and counseling is provide free of charge. It's a lot of protocol, but we want to ensure all our teams have the best care they can have. And email will be sent shortly detailing your appointment times.”

Because two days off was such a treat, why not fill it with shrinks and forced personal reflection? “Thank you, I'll look at that as soon as I get home.”

“Great! One more thing, V. This is usually done more formally, but under these circumstances I hope you understand. Your file has been reviewed for your probationary period, and the board of directors has decided to fully welcome you onboard as a Trauma Team paramedic. We are so proud to have you on board.”

She had to stifle a laugh, “Wow, I don't know what to say.” She really didn't, she was too damn tired.

“Your crew and schedule will change, but another email detailing your benefits, including your sign-on bonus, and a form to fill out for measurements for your uniform and armor will also be arriving shortly. Welcome aboard. Get some rest tonight.”

After the call ended, Vik looked to her curiously, an eyebrow arched.

“I'm a full medic now. And I have to see a shrink.”

He smiled, congratulating her as he pulled into her apartment complex's parking bay.

“Oh shut up, Vik, you knew.” She grabbed her work duffle and got out of the car, but before closing the door, she peeked back in, chewing on her lower lip.  
“Look, Vik, if this is weird lemme know, but I just … really, really don't want to be alone with my thoughts.”  
His arm rested on his door, his eyes locked onto hers, a soft expression on his face, “I understand.”

“You uh, if you got your stuff with you, you can shower here and then we can head over to Tonya's?” She rubbed one leg with her other boot, fidgeting, “unless you got stuff to do?”

There was a moment when she thought she had stepped too far, that he'd chastise her and say that's not a good idea. She didn't know about him, but she felt the tension during their quiet moments, and she was content to leave their relationship as it was, if boundaries weren't respected a shower at a coworker's apartment could make things messy. Tonya would be a more appropriate companion at this time. But Tonya wasn't here, and Tonya hadn't held the child as she pushed the medication through the IO that Vik had bored into its bones. She wanted an equal, not a coworker, to keep her thoughts at bay.

Half expecting a refusal, she let out a silent sigh as he turned off the engine, “I don't have any fish to feed at my place, so I don't see why not.”

“Thanks,” she whispered.

He reached around the back seat for a large knapsack, “Nah, I get it. It's been a while since a call like that and I don't want to be alone either, sweetheart.”

Almost gagging at the flip her stomach did, she tried to play it cool. She was so use to “kid” or “kiddo” as his go-to pet name for her, that “sweetheart” sent her head spinning. Adamant that she wouldn't acknowledge this change, the ride on the elevator was mostly silent. She insisted he shower first, as she had to go through emails from Trauma Team.

Opening the door to her apartment, the stale stillness felt almost heartwarming, and with Viktor close behind her, she felt like she could get through this night without spiraling. She flicked the lights on, making the city outside her window almost invisible. Tossing her duffle bag on her workbench seat, she showed Vik her bathroom, thankful that she had cleaned it several days ago.  
“It takes a bit to warm up, but there's towels...here. I have some cheap soap and stuff if you need it.”

“Alright, can't wait to scrub this shift off me,” and without further ado, he began to undress while she was still in the small bathroom.

He was just kicking his already unzipped boots off, and then sliding off the flight suits they all wore. It wasn't indecent, it was just … more than V had seen of him. The suit hung around his waist as he unclipped the belt, a thin and stained ribbed tank top barely covered his tattooed musculature.   
“Mind if I shave?”

A year's worth of staring made V gulp like a fish before answering, “Y-yeah, sure. Go for it.” She almost tripped while backing out of the bathroom.

“Thanks, just makin' sure it won't clog your drains-”

“The door slides!” her voice was a little too loud, “It exists and it slides, hav-ve fun, I got uh, emails.” She slid said door shut, seeing Vik's head perk up just before it clicked in place.

V booted up her ages-old computer. While waiting for it to whir to life, she relieved herself of her own work clothes as she heard the shower sputter. She stumbled while pulling off her boots, sweat caking her socks that she peeled off.  
She tossed off her flight suit, falling over that too. At least she wore actual clothes under it, unlike some people. She couldn't stand upright for some reason, and bumped into her workbench chair before sitting at the computer and pulling up her emails. She began to fill out and sign documents, letting the tedium distract her. The AI generated report from the day's call was ready to be reviewed, but she wasn't going to touch that tonight.  
She got up, hearing the shower go off, and decided to brew some coffee so Vik had something to do while he waited for her.

Going through her cupboards was a mistake, as her sizable stock of spam greeted her next to her coffee. The immediate thought of the smell, the taste, of parboiled pink meat sunk straight through to her stomach and in a second she was bowled over her kitchen sink and retching nothing from her empty stomach.

Viktor's hands were on her shoulders as her heaves calmed down, she hadn't even realized he had left the bathroom, but the smell of his cedar-scented soap did well to erase the smell of spam that had sickened her. Both her arms shook as they supported her at the sink.

“I'm fine, just fine,” she hadn't heard what he was saying, but he was rubbing small circles between her shoulder blades and she didn't know if she wanted more, or to recoil from any human touch.  
She settled on turning around and sliding down the counter to sit on the kitchenette's floor.  
He joined her, and thank fuck he was already dressed, though his shirt was too tight, sleeves rolled up, and shaving cream still speckled his face. Strong arms surrounded her as he sat next to her, pulling her into a half hug. She was practically in his lap.

Her hands covered her face, rubbing her eyes and massaging her temples, “You know what's fucked up, Vik?”

“Hmm?” he rumbled, thumb circling her arm.

“I'm not even, like, emotionally fucked up over the kid. Like I know it was fucked, but it's more like the littlest details from that scene keep sneaking up on me. Vik, I live off spam, what the fuck am I supposed to eat if the only staple of my diet keeps reminding me of boiled baby?”

He chuckled, voice low, she could feel it as their bodies touched, “That's why all us medics are fucked in the head, V. Those details will stick with you forever. But it gets easier. Maybe our minds don't want to focus on the actual bullshit we experience, so it hyper focuses on stupid shit like the smell, and that chevron shape of our path through the house.”

“You noticed that too?”

“Yeah, see it every time I close my eyes.”

Her head lolled against his shoulder, breathing his freshly clean scent in.  
They sat like that for a while, she completely relaxed against him and it was just...nice. Calming. She found her hand reaching up to the one around her shoulder, and fingers intertwined. His large hand engulfing hers, massaging her palm, holding it tight. She could feel his face turn to where her head rested in the crook of his neck, and the faintest, smallest kiss applied to her hair.

“When uh, when I was interning in the hospital, we had a burn patient come in. I was helping them debride the burnt skin. Scrubbing it off to apply some NuSkin. It was the same shit, but I dunno, just his arm and he was also an asshole as soon as the fentanyl kicked in. So I guess the smell didn't bother me as much.”

He hmmed into her hair, just listening.

“You know what Sweeney ordered for lunch that day?”

“That jerk from respiratory? What ever could he have ordered?”

“Fucking barbecue! It pissed everyone off. Amy actually tossed it into the biohazard bin!”

He laughed at that, threw his head back against the cabinets and laughed hard. It was contagious and she couldn't help joining in, shoulders shaking and bodies closer once they had calmed down.

“I gotta shower, I'm sure I smell,” she started getting up on her own, but he didn't let her, instead pulling her up with him.

She was sure he only meant it in a gentlemanly, protective gesture but it caused them to be almost nose-to-nose as they stood, and their intimacy suddenly sank in, twisted inside of her, their bodies warmer next to each other than they were separated, hips touching. She reached up to his face, freshly shaved, and with her thumb, wiped away a smudge of shaving cream.  
“You got some preening to finish up too.”

Smiling, he finally stepped back, “So I do, I'm sure I can manage while you clean up.”

She walked to her desk, grabbed some clothes she had prepped while he showered and walked over to the bathroom, “Feel free to make some coffee, or pack up all the spam you want.”

“Not a chance, sweetheart, that's all you.”

She slid the bathroom door closed, watching him wipe his face clean with a towel he had packed. It still smelled like his soap and his sweat as the hot water sputtered back on.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by Clydae!
> 
> This ship has ruined me, I've been thirsting for Vik for over two damn years and the explosion of fanfiction and fanart of him is now helping make up for him not being romance option. The internet is a beautiful thing and thank you so much for the kind words and kudos. Seeing people enjoy this makes me write more!

Going out and hanging with coworkers two nights in a row? If V wasn't careful, she'd turn into a social butterfly. Resting her chin in her palm, she watched Little China go by as Vik drove to City Center, where Tonya's apartment was. She hadn't been this far around the city, hadn't had time to sight see and familiarize herself with the geography except for calls, and that was all done in flight. In the distance behind them she could see the medical center standing tall and foreboding, bright aqua lights dwarfing the rest of the neon surrounding it in the night.

“V...” Vicktor's voice brought her attention away from the city, to his furrowed brow as he cleared an intersection and made a right turn. “There is somethin' I want to talk about.”

Her hackles rose, the tone of his voice was low, nearly angry. His eyes glanced towards her behind his glasses and she felt the pit of her stomach twist.

“You 'member our talks when you first started with us? 'bout letting the scene be secured before you go rushing in to save the day?”

“Yes..?” she arched an eyebrow, not liking how just the sternness in his voice could put her on the defensive.

They veered to an on-ramp, taking the freeway. He turned to her for just a second, inhaled loudly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. “You almost did the exact opposite today.”

His hand went to her wrist, the touch not soft this time, but hard and controlling, “you were gonna rush in there against MAXTAC orders, coulda been right in the crossfire.”

His grip didn't hurt, but his demand for her attention was clear in it, “I was just frustrated, you stopped me-”

“Yeah, _I_ stopped you. 'For you went and got yourself killed,” he was practically growling, “your next partner might be some asshole who doesn't give two shits 'bout your safety, won't put himself out there to watch your back, and a rookie move like that will get you killed.”

They took an exit, began circling around an affluent megabuilding, and his hold on her didn't lighten, “so next time I don't care if you're watching your patient bleed out two feet from you, you wait for your guards to clear the area before you even  _ think _ about stepping off that AV.” He drove into a parking garage, found the first spot available and pulled into it.

Before he could shift into park she snapped her arm away from him and silence followed. She didn't know what to say, she was fuming. Berating her like she hadn't just earned her medic patch. Like she was a child who has never had her life threatened.

“Okay.” It was barely a whisper, she could feel her face burning.

Turning the engine off, he twisted to face her, his arm around the back of her seat, “I just don't want to see you killed.” His expression was softer now, but she wasn't putting up with it.

“Jesus fucking christ, Vik. I wasn't gonna leave the AV... was just being dramatic, I might have hit the door but I wasn't going to leave. I knew MAXTAC would tear me to shreds...”

A rough, tired sigh escaped him, but she now refused to look at his face. She didn't want to see an expression of disappointment or pity. Not after how close they had been today.

“Looks like the elevator is over that way” she got out and perhaps shut the door a little too loudly, walking towards the lift without waiting for him, trying not to become a petulant child but also wanting to storm off. Even though her steps were quick, his gait was wider and he was still behind her, even managed to call the elevator before she could press the button. She leaned against the opposite wall and crossed her arms, noting how swanky this particular lift was compared to the one in her building. All outside noise was muffled, the silence of her anger fermenting. She still refused to look up at him, feeling his eyes on her as he intentionally stood close, leaning a shoulder on the wall next to her.

“Didn't mean to lecture you-”

“Well, it certainly sounded like it.”

She glanced up at him, and hated herself for it, he was just worried.

“Guess I was that asshole that pissed you off in transit...”

_ Fuck _ . She fought a smile, but sighed, “a little...” her arms fell to her sides and she relented and turned to him, “I get what you're saying, and I know you're right. I really didn't intend to leave the AV, I was just-”

“Tense? Yeah, we still need to follow protocol, 'specially in tense situations.”

She rolled her eyes at him, “I know,  _ jeeze _ Vik, just dont-” she stopped at his expression, the elevator settling on Tonya's floor, and his smirk  _ infuriated _ her.

“Don't 'what', V?”

“Don't ever fucking grab me that hard again. Unless we're both naked.”

Thankfully she knew Tonya's apartment from the music and laughter coming from it, so she bee-lined to the door as Viktor's face fell and his eyebrows rose, not allowing him to respond to her obvious innuendo. The righteous indignation fueled her as she pressed the com button and Tonya opened the door almost immediately.

Tonight Tonya wore sensible but comfortable-looking tan slacks and a blazer, which made V feel under dressed in her her Mojave-bleached jeans and flannel. The entirety of Tonya's place made V feel like a fish out of water. It wasn't corpo levels of extravagance, but it was nice and sleek. Beautiful paintings lined the walls, plush sofas faced each other in a den-like room with warm lighting and elegant statues and knickknacks joined a plethora of books on shelves. Tonya herself held a glass of something pale and bubbly, her voice elevated over the jazz that played from a vinyl record in a kitchen with booze and confections covering the marble island.

“My V, and my Viktor! Come on in! Make yourself at home!”

With wide-eyed awe V gravitated to the book collection, “your place is damn snazzy, Tonya. Is Tee-Tee paying their guards more than their medics?”

Tonya sat with a smooth movement on the back of a sofa, hmming into her drink, “I freelance in the merc biz every now and then. Makes life a bit more comfortable. Would either of you like a drink?”

“Any beer?” Viktor looked at the spread in the kitchen with slight disappointment.

The guard got up, “I have some very nice craft brews from Oregon, would you like one, V?”

“Sure, thanks. Where is everyone?”

Tonya brought out two dark lagers out from a mini fridge under the kitchen island, popping the tops off with mostly metal hands. “Tom and Willis just went to the patio, door's down the hallway. Bathroom is at the end there, should anyone need it.”

V took the offered bottle, making her way down the window-lined path, feeling Viktor close behind.

The jazz followed through speakers to a spacious patio larger than the living room. Willis and Tom sat in two of several Adirondack chairs surrounding a warm - but small compared to what V was use to - fire pit. The comfort of the atmosphere reminded V of long, cold nights in Joshua Tree with friends and family surrounding a huge fire, sharing drinks and jokes. Will even got up and greeted her with a bear hug before she sat down next to him.

“I'm glad ya'll came by, almost expected you to stay home.” His second comment directed at her.

Tonya crossed her legs as she sat down, chuckling, “V and Vik come here together, both showered? I knew she'd come when I noticed them leaving together.”

Even Tom chuckled at that and V felt her face go red as Vik sat across the fire from her, putting hands behind his shaking head and leaning back, a smug smile on his face. “Not like that, Tonya, please.”

“Of course not, my dears. I have been drinking.” Still giggling.

V took a large gulp of her beer, focusing on it's nutty taste.

A tinkling tune made the music pause for a second, and Tonya's eyes glowed as she remotely answered the com at her door, “hmm, yes?”

V recognized the excited voice from dispatch earlier, “hey girl! I'm here! Lemme iiiin!”

Tonya sat her drink down and got up, and everyone became excited that Markey was invited. Vik explained that Markey had been a dispatcher since before he was on Trauma Team, and Tom even chimed that he missed the times before they had an AI as a dispatcher and was glad Markey was still around. A rare sentence from the gunner that V almost missed.

A few 'whoo hoos' were heard from inside, and suddenly everyone was on their feet again as Markey burst onto the patio, giving out hugs and 'hip bumps'. She was a tiny woman, age showed by wrinkles at her eyes from smiling, and sported short blonde hair that moved all over with the wind and her movements.

After a hug from Vik, which she clung to as he easily picked her up and put her down, he introduced her to V.

“Markey, meet V, the newest star of Trauma Team.”

“Oh oh oh! We spoke over coms today, _Vee_ it is _so_ nice to meet you! Damn girl you were fuckin' boss out there! I heard you orderin' these gonks around and lemme tell you- whooooo!” she perched on the Adirondack next to V, the chair almost swallowing her if the dispatcher hadn't held so much energy.

“Uhh, thanks?” V took another swig, eyes locked on Markey because she demanded it.

“Girl, I know you are young, and you are new, but you got guts and I have _mad_ respect for that! Like I never heard someone get so sassy with MAXTAC before, we were _cheering_ for you in dispatch!”

“I bet you were,” Will took a drink of something dark in a glass, his eyelids heavy, “I 'bout shit myself when she was all 'what the fuck is happening in there'!” he giggled.

V drank the last of the beer, confused and slightly embarrassed at the attention her actions had got without her knowledge.

Markey slapped her own knee, “sheeyit! It was nova like you wouldn't believe! Oh! Oh! Y'all I got an update on the patient!”

A collective hunching of the shoulders happened, but before Markey could go on, Tonya's com sounded off again.

“Damn, who else did you invite?” Vik had finished his beer too, and got up with Tonya.

“Would anyone else like another round?” Tonya sat her newly filled glass down and Markey responded excitedly, asking for a heavy handed something-or-other. Vik and Tonya went back into the apartment as Markey lit a cigarette and asked Willis how he was doing.

“Alright, it all reminded me of Kaylee, but ehh, I'm good.” Tom responded with a grunt.

“Who's Kaylee?” V hadn't heard him mention her, and when he explained that she was his sister, it all made sense.

“She's almost as tall as I am now, but I like, helped raise her, y'know? Just reminded me of when she was tiny, is all.”

Markey hmmed and got up to sit on the arm of his chair, her voice low and motherly, “hey kiddo, that's normal...” an exchange of huddled encouragement commenced and V felt like she was intruding.

Tonya and Vik returned, along with a bulky figure V vaguely recognized. Even in the firelight she could see that his skin was an ashy hue, and he held himself stiffly, nearly as tall as Viktor. His face was young but his eyes were entirely artificial, glowing a low orange at all times. Cords of tubing and wires replaced his throat, trailing down under a starchy collard shirt.

“Everyone, this is Jethro,” Tonya announced, “he was on the call with us. MAXTAC, but trust me, he is...cool.”

“Damn, Tons, and we were just shit talking MAXTAC!” Markey let out a cackle as she took a glass that the guard handed her. Her remark made the sudden appearance of a stranger feel less hostile.

“He was the one holding the child,” Tonya nodded in V's direction, and the recognition dawned on her, “sit down, my Jethro. We've worked together a few times outside of ... official means.” She patted the agent as he awkwardly walked to an open seat next to Vik's.

Viktor himself stepped around the fire, a nod at Jethro, and stepped in front of V. He handed her another beer and she took it with a buzzed smile on her face. What she didn't expect was for Vik to bend down, not letting go of the beer, and with a barely audible whisper against her ear, “don't think I'll forget about that little remark you had in the elevator.”

Her smile froze, and the beer nearly dropped out of her hands when he let go of it before returning to his seat. A few drops dribbled on her hand before she regained composure, but she kept eye contact after he sat down across from her. Lifting her fingers to her lips, she quickly licked off the booze that had spilled, knowing he was watching even though the reflection of his glasses kept his gaze from her.

He took a drink, not turning his face away from V, “so, Markey, what new details do ya have for us?”

The dispatcher got up and twirled back to her chair next to V, “well, a few more reports from the situation came in, for one, your patient is doing well! In the burn unit and stabilized!”

“Surprising,” Tonya and Will mumbled in agreement.

“Mother had a bad case of post partum, apparently had some chrome work done while the kid was still in utero,”

A collection of 'shit's and 'fuck's were muttered around the fire.

“A little too much, as the psychosis kicked in about a month ago. Father was on paternity leave-”

“We found 'im bloated in the basement,” everyone's head turned to Jetho's first words, “she must've taken 'im out days ago.”

“That's some fucked up shit,” Viktor crossed his ankle over his knee, taking a long drink.

“For real,” Markey slurped half her glass, “anyway, mother's in long term treatment. She went fugue for a while and completely neglected the baby. Suddenly saw that he was covered in filth and tried to clean him like a cast iron skillet. Kid's getting most limbs replaced organically. He's small enough that his cells do well in an incubator.”

“He'll probably still need a dick replacement after every growth spurt,” Will muttered into his glass.

“You'd be surprised at the things they can grow these days. He might be patched up and back to normal by the time he's in his terrible twos,” Tonya mentioned some stem cell research from Sweden, and a discussion about medical papers and innovations in cell treatment followed.

After finishing her second bottle, V felt a little a burst of confidence, “when the mom comes to, she isn't gonna live with knowing what she did.”

The MAXTAC agent shifted, “after treatment, she won't remember the actual details of- Of what happened. We always have the option of joining the force.”

“I guess that's an option...” Willis muttered, side-eyeing Jethro.

“You know what this call reminded me of?” Tonya turned to Tom, “that gonk who thought it was a great idea to hoard a shit ton of choo-two in his warehouse when the price dropped in 'seventy-four.”

A familiar war story followed, so V excused herself to the bathroom. Part of her wanted to leave, but she knew this kind of camaraderie was important. After relieving herself in a very sparkly bathroom, noting three seashells by the toilet, she went to the kitchen and poured herself a shot of some bright blue vodka. The burn wasn't so bad going down, so she had another. Her debate on a third was interrupted with Willis coming inside. He gave her a friendly “hey-yo!” as he looked around to pour himself another drink.

“So weird there's a MAXTAC guy here, like he seems alright but itch shtill... like weird, y'know?” he rinsed his glass out and V searched for the whiskey he had been drinking.

“Yeah, I 'member him from the call. Thought it weird 'e wouldn't just leave the kid where e' was.”

“He's kinda cute, though.” Will hiccuped and V joined him in giggling.

“For a ghosty-lookin' man machine, yeah I guess.” She poured his whiskey for him, the bottle guggling.

“If I didn't have Tom to stop me, y'know I'd be trying to hit that, jus' to see if I could.”

V started laughing again, feeling the vodka hit her with a swim in her brain. She grabbed something bright and tried to find some ice, “how a, how'd that happen? If uh, ya don' mind me ashkin? You an' Tom.”

Willis took a sip, leaning back on the kitchen island, “oh uh, well we just worked together, like a lot. He'sh quiet so I just looked from a dist-” he hiccuped again “a distansh. He ashed me out randomly and I thought it was like, jus' a joke.”

V rested her arm on the counter, listening as intently as she could.

“He took me to uh, a nice place. Shit I wore a t-shirt and felt so dumb. But uh, yeah. Lotsh of looking and loooonging. Kinda like you and Vikkie.”

V laughed, “oh no, me an' Vik? It's not like that.”

Willis turned his head to her in an exaggerated double take, “'sherious? Oh wait-” he downed the rest of his drink, “I need some water.” He filled his glass with filtered tap water, thought for a moment, then grabbed a bottle of the RealWater Tonya left out.

“You for real? I thought that wash odd. Vik's not really like that anyway.”

V sipped on her drink, it tasted like candied apples, “like what?”

“Like, fuckin' 'round. Y'know us medics, you get a bad call, shome alone time, then you's fuckin' like rabbits. Vik's always been … profesh-un-al.” He took a swig of water, burped, “plus you're an intern. Some guys jus' like havin' power over a newbie, take advantage with that uh, starry-eyed looks. Not Viks, Vik's good. So it's more like uhh, father-daughter type sish with ya guys?”

V absolutely snorted, the alcohol taking over and she doubled down laughing. Willis was dumbfounded, but weakly giggled with her, “I'm sho lost...”

V wanted to explain, but couldn't, she had such a hard time laughing and she and Will were so drunk she didn't know if she could explain even if the thought of Viktor being her  _ daddy _ wasn't so damn hilarious to her.

Tom came inside, collected Willis and with some hugs and fist bumps the two left, Tom supporting Will and urging him to drink more water.

Tonya showed them out, and after the door had shut she leaned against it and crossed her arms.

“And what has our V in such good spirits?”

V picked up a water for herself, sitting down on a sofa as she popped the cap open, “nothing.”

Tonya arched an eyebrow, “'nothing'?” she sat down next to V, draping an arm behind her, “you sure? That was an awful lot of laughter I heard.”

V sipped the water, her stomach was starting to sour, “it's jusht, Will asked if Vik and I had a uh, father-daughter relationship and it was uh, it was pretty funny,” she took a larger gulp.

“Oh, I see.” Tonya nodded slowly, “why's that funny?” the gleam in her eyes set V on edge, and V rolled her eyes.

“You know why's it's funny, don't gimme that.”

Tonya hmmed, plucked out a cigarette from an invisible pocket and lit it with a snap of a flashy lighter, “I've known Viktor a long time, V. He doesn't take to the drama that surrounds Tee-Tee, unlike Markey. She thrives on it.” she blew a plume of smoke after her next drag.

“Sho?” V was trying so hard to keep her head up, to not slur her words.

“So? So a cute, young, and yes – exotic thing like you comes from the desert that knows how to do medical procedures that haven't been done since the twenties marches in and every red-blooded male would do his damnedest to get into your pants.

“Vik may be an old-timer, he may be a … DILF, but he's still a man. And has he tried to get into your pants?”

He had certainly had the opportunity, but V shakes her head, looking to the elaborate carpet under her sneakers.

“It's not because he's not into you, my V. Sheesh it gets annoying when he goes on about the . . .” she waves her hand in the air, “medical things you can do. He just respects the people he works with, but he has a very, very soft spot for you.”

V sighed, “he's . . . he can drive me crazy, I don't wannna get tangled in work like this-”

“Then don't. But don't string him along if you don't intend to. He'll never make a move on an intern, so long as he's your mentor he's sees it as improper. But once you are fully on board, don't be fuckin' shy.”

Tucking her feet under her, V hugged her knees, “y'know, I passed my medic status today.”

Tonya's eyes brightened, her serious expression turning to a bright smile, “Oh! My V! That is wonderful news!” she hugged the young medic, squeezing her shoulders.

“This is great, for you and Vik. And if you don't want entanglement at work, now's the time to cut personal ties. Set clear boundaries.”

V couldn't help giggling, “y'know, I don't think I want boundaries. With Vik.”

That sly smile returned to Tonya's face, “let me make you another drink, you ought to be properly hungover for your first kumbaya meeting with the shrink.” With a wink she pulled V up and dragged her to her the kitchen.

Jethro was a good kid, it still wasn't clear why he was in MAXTAC at such a young age, but he spoke like one of them. Stilted and awkward, but still conversational. He and Viktor talked shop about cybernetics, and Markey tried to poke him enough with jokes, but hardly a chuckle came from him. The fire was dying down as Tonya came back to the patio, a wobbling V hugged to her arms.

“I know Tom and Will have left, but I have a toast to make!”

V was smiling but obviously tired, holding a glass of something weak looking.

“What's all this about?” Markey stood up, drink at the ready.

“Our V has passed her paramedic review!”

Markey let out a whoop, and three glasses lifted to the air, Jethro refusing any drink, but giving a nod anyway.

“I am so excited to hear you over the coms! You're gonna be one badass medic, V.” Markey gave her a hug, and Jethro soon wandered behind the women to take his leave. The dispatcher and MAXTAC agent exited the apartment, congratulating V and thanking Tonya for the hospitality. It was quiet with just the three of them, Tonya had turned the music down.

“How ya doin' V? Haven't had too much?” Viktor looked her over, knowing fully well that V was quite drunk.

“Oh I've had too much ...”

Tonya chuckled, “V you can stay here the night, I have a guest room with a garbage pail for any...incidents.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Vik agreed. When Tonya left to ready the room, he helped V sit down on a sofa, handing her a water.

“No thanks, got too much liquid in me,” she turned against him to snuggle into his side, and he somehow both relaxed and tensed up.

“Your heart's racing, Vik” she mumbled into his chest. Her hair covered most of her face, the part not shaved pulled over her shoulder, he had watched as she braided it after her shower.

“'course it is, kid. Can't help that when you're so close.”

Her shoulder's shook with silent laughter and when she brought her face up he could smell the liquor on her breath, “there's something I gots to tell ya, serious, Vik.”

He smiled at her drunk serious face, “oh I think you're too drunk to tell me anything 'serious'-”

“No, fuck you, I'm not. Serious.”

Crooking his neck, he put on his best serious face, “alright then, ma'am, what is it?”

She narrowed her gray, organic eyes and peered at him, “don't fuckin' call me 'kid'.”

Fighting a smile, he nodded, “I think I can manage that. Old habits do die hard, though.”

Eyes still narrowed, she lifted her hand to pat him on the cheek, “cool.”

“Cool,” he repeated, humoring her.

Tonya marched back in, collected V, and escorted her to the guest room. When she returned she asked Vik if he was staying, too.

“Nah, I gotta get to the clinic. Gotta prep it for tomorrow.”

Tonya opened the door for him, “you still do ripper work?”

“Not recently, but my licenses are still good, and V deserves somethin' for passing her medic.”

Crossing her arms, her signature brow lifted, “oh, for V? Yes, she probably will need some upgrades.”

“Yeah, her young, spitfire attitude might not be enough for long, not in Night City. Might give her some Kiroshies or somethin'.”

Tonya hmmed, “she may be young, but she's not that young, Vik. She managed to get this far from the middle of nowhere.”

“What're you tryin' to say, Tons?” 

“Nothing, just don't dismiss her for her age. She's on your level now.”

Shaking his head, he left the apartment, “I don't deal with these insinuations, you know that.”

His hostess smiled, “of course not, my Vik. Goodnight.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I need to thank my beta reader (of course), the beautiful creature known as Clydae.  
> Second, I have realized that the best place to thirst over Viktor is tumblr. I haven't used tumblr in years but I need to join the community that collectively longs for this ripperdoc, so I'm going to plug my url:  
> https://coyotemoonie.tumblr.com/  
> Follow, ask for requests or fic drabbles, show me the magic because I'm lost to the new world of tumblr at this time!  
> 

Between five and six am, the streets were quiet this time of morning in Watson District. The people up all night were sleeping off the parties, and the ones up for the day were still getting ready for work.  
  
Victor slipped to the back of Misty's Esoterica, knocked on the thin sliding door, and waited for a tired, pajama clothed Misty to answer.  
  
"It's so early, Vik. Do you really need to do this?" She yawned as she led him into his old doc shop. He hadn't done a job here in months, but she had started the coffee, and the peculator bubbled welcomingly.

  
"Yeah, need to check my tools and stock before she gets here." Misty had taken to using the shop as extra storage-- boxes of oils and crates of crystals littered the edge of the room. "The fuck have you done to my shop?"  
  
"Hey, chill Doc, you haven't been here in ages," her voice trailed off as she turned a corner and went up a set of stairs. "If something's in your way, just kick it somewhere. I'm going back to bed."  
  
Viktor got to work cleaning out his workshop. He first checked his inventory, content that V would be pleased with the options he had for her. He sanitized the operating chair, put his scalpels and tools in the autoclave, then checked the condition of his Arasaka operating glove. He was doing inventory on the anesthesia and other drugs he had available when he heard a buzzer going off at Misty's shop.  
  
Watching her closely at Tonya's little get-together, Vik knew first hand that she had drank a _lot_. The events of last night showed on her hooded eyes, and messy hair with her braid gone and replaced by quick bun at the back of her head.  
"Why 'm I here? Gonna read my palms or somethin'?"

  
"You look like shit, V."

  
She slouched her way through the shop, eyeing smudge sticks and incense, "This was your idea Vik. You're lucky I even looked at my phone when I woke up. I'd rather be dead right now, but here I fuckin' am."

  
With a bit too much confidence, he led her towards his shop with a hand to the small of her back. She looked up at him begrudgingly, but didn't object, "Do I smell coffee?"

  
"You think I don't know you? C'mon."  
  
The hungover wonder on V's face was priceless as she examined his shop. The pure bewilderment she showed was far too satisfying to Viktor. She inspected his body scanner, his tools, the operating chair, "The fuck, Vik, you're a full on ripperdoc? You got more than an AV has in here!"  
  
"Now a days, just every so often. My old hand isn't as steady as it used to be."

  
"Shit, man, this is incredible!"

  
He chuckled, "Let's get you some coffee and fluids. Hop on up here," he patted the chair and she eyed him suspiciously.  
  
"What's your game here?" Cradling the mug of joe he handed her, she sat on the edge of the chair, not completely following orders.  
  
Viktor gathered an IV catheter, a bag of saline, and a vial of vitamins and electrolytes, "You're Trauma Team now, V. The best of the best. And it's time for the best of _that_ best to get an upgrade." Slipping on his mechanical glove, he reached up and swung the screen of the scanner in front of her. Her eyes widened at a list of his cyberware stock. He sat on his wheeled chair as she read and studied her options.

  
"Vik, I can't afford these. I mean, I know exactly what I want, but I'm nowhere close to what this costs."

  
"Don't worry about the costs, V. This is your grad gift from me." She lifted her legs on the chair, staring at him while she adjusted her seating. "You put up with so much bullshit these past few months, especially with working with me, so you peruse your options, and I'll get rid of this hangover of yours.” Scooting over to her, he snapped a tourniquet around her arm, noting elaborate and vivid tattoos he didn't often get to see when she was in her flight suit. “Think you can give me a few pointers? Haven't started an IV in a while.”

She smiled at him, turning her arm so the inside faced upward, “I think you know more than you let on, My AC vein is easy to stick.”

He held her arm as he cleaned her skin, eyeing the vein that popped against her muscles. Being able to finally touch her was nice, but he kept his composure. “You have some nice ink here,” he mumbled as he slipped an 18-gauge needle under her skin. Almost immediately it registered, blood pooling into the catheter. With a slide and click, he screwed on a lock and then began taping the IV in place, enjoying her impressed expression and letting his hands linger on her arm slightly longer than necessary.

“Not bad, Vik.”

“I guess it just shows my age, that I still know how it's done.” He hooked up the bag of fluids he had prepped, then wheeled over to his diagnostic computer, inputting the vitals his scanner had picked up since she had no personal jack.

She _tsked_ at him, “please, Vik, I am the IV queen. If that makes you old, I'm ancient.” V asked a few questions about a modem, and an optical lens. She asked if a processor he had was similar to one she had been thinking about. Her skin was soft, though a few scars maimed it, looking like defensive wounds along her forearms. Goosebumps lined her skin-- the saline was refrigerated, and as it rushed her bloodstream, he expected her to get cold. "This processor, where does it need to be installed?"

  
He took a look at the screen, even though there was only one processor he had available, it was an excuse to lean a bit closer to her. "Small of the back, right against your spine.” He touched the area he spoke of, trailing his fingers over her vertebrae, “I've done it before but it's very intensive, don't got an auto installer that can do it. Will take a few hours. Sure you don't want anything more fun?"  
  


She inspected the details and specs, "It would make anything I get in the future a hell of a lot easier to install, plus this one's compatible with pretty much any manufacturer."  
  
He nodded as he reached over her to zoom in on the 3D model on the screen, spinning it around to explain its functions, "This is a complete homebrew piece, made by a small shop in Seattle. I had acquired three of them, and this is the last one. They're handmade and fairly sought-after. This dip here is where it rests against your spine. I'll have to collect some cells once I have you open so I can grow chord extensions to fully install it. Won't take long. But then the ribbon chord needs to line up perfectly with a hole I drill to access those squishy bits behind the column. You'll have to be awake for this, so I can test the functions and connections. If you can't stay still, I'll have to paralyze you from the waist down," he lifted his own cup of coffee to his lips as he eyed her.  
  


"Geeze Vik, being undressed with my body at your mercy, I think you'll have to paralyze me to keep me from squirming under you."  
  


The hot coffee went down the wrong pipe, he coughed and sputtered as she laughed and patted his back a few times. She grabbed her saline bag and held it over her head as she rummaged in some cabinets for a glass. Fist on his chest, trying to clear his throat, he pointed to the opposite wall with a sink. She filled a glass with water and handed it to him, smirking and laughing and apologizing the whole way.  
  


Once only a tickle remained in his throat, he looked her in the eye from above his glasses, "Don't be teasing an old man before an operation, young lady," she was still grinning, face red from laughter. "Now, I've got paper gowns and the works, this isn't a dirty scrapper operation,"

  
A hand went over her mouth as she stopped the obvious joke he presented her with, "Yeah yeah, damn you're easy to fluster."

  
"Well, you're not hard on the eyes kid, but I'm serious here, this will be delicate. Don't try to seduce me while I work."

  
"Ten-four, Doc."  
  
He gave her some muscle relaxers instead of complete paralysis. Conscious paralysis can be more traumatic than pain at times, and with a topical anesthetic, he was confident she'd be fine. He had seen many bodies as a medic and a ripperdoc; seeing hers wasn't any different. A professional mindset went a long way, even though plenty of medics could care less. Spreading swabs of iodine all over her back, he noted the defined muscles and low body fat she had. For someone totally organic, she'd had to over compensate to compete with those around her. With gloved fingers, he traced the image of a leaping fox, right above where he'd have to start an incision. “Might have to mar some of your tattoos, I'll try my best to avoid them.” With a fresh, brand-new sharpie, he began making lines on her skin, showing what needed to be cut, what would need to be removed, what needed to be pulled back.  
  
When his scalpel touched her skin, she sucked in a small gasp, "Sorry, cold."  
Her head rested on her arms, and even though she had no problem lounging prone and mostly naked before him, he had folded sheets to cover her upper back and most of her ass. It was just the professional thing to do.  
  


Her twitching, though, was not helping matters. "Keep still, V. You're not that high."

  
"Hmmmm..." she settled back, "yes Sir."

  
His trousers immediately became too tight, and he glared at her. Her head was turned on its side, he could see a smirk in her cheeks. His tech glove spread its fingers wide and splayed against her back, then with a bit more pressure than needed, he pressed down, holding secure both her lower back, and her left ass cheek with just a bit of her bum bulging from between his fingers.  
  


A shocked "Mmph" came from V, and Vik wondered what the fuck had gotten into her. She might be too high, maybe still a bit drunk. Maybe she just needed to get laid, but that was entirely not his business.

  
He admired V for many reasons, and even though she had a quiet wittiness to her, she was also better than most veteran medics in Trauma Team. She had a knack for reading her partners and her patients, knowing what supplies and procedures he needed done before he said anything. He hadn't even told her that he'd already requested her as his full-time partner after her internship was finished.  
But she was being an unbearably flirty little minx on his operating chair and he wouldn't have minded it if she wasn't under his knife. She was obviously being a tease with her altered mental status, and he was much too old for her. If he was fifteen years younger, he would have buried himself in her cunt months ago, and not let anyone else touch her for the rest of her life.  
  
Without moving his gloved hand, he reached for an inhaler that contained some mild amphetamines, took a hit, and in a few seconds his mind was clear, his dick was soft, and he was focused on the job at hand.

Dozing off after a few dozen minutes, Viktor woke her to do some reflex testing. He stroked the bottom of her feet with something cold and metallic, asked if she felt when he systematically poked her, instructed her to raise her fingers and move.

She fell asleep again, waking when he moved her from the operating chair to a cot. She was so exhausted, her back tender, all she could make out was his bright lamp light, being gently lifted then place somewhere warm and soft. A blanket covered her, smelling like cigarettes and sweat and leather. Smelling like Viktor.

Her eyes drifted open, focusing on a repetitive movement some distance away. The back-and-forth motion slowly focused, and more joined it. One, three … no, at least five lucky cat figurines, waving their paws out of sync with each other, greeting her awake. For a while, she stared at them, glancing back and forth, mesmerized by their motion. Her attention then drifted to the desk they all congregated on. The glint of trophies caught her eye, somehow, she could read them, but it wasn't quite her eyes reading them. The shapes of the far-way tiny letters seem to shift to dates, places, names: Viktor Vector. Eventually a smell began to curl around her nose, cheese, eggs, garlic, and cumin. Her stomach, empty since her last call's demands on her stomach, began to churn and growl, waking her further.

Attempting to get up, her lower back protested, a sharp jolt sending her back down. She hissed, and reached back to feel _what in the fuck_ was so wrong. As soon as she touched a slightly raised line along her spine, she remembered why she hurt, and why she was there.

“Oh, hey there.” A soft, sweet voice matched the soft, sweet face that greeted her. A feathery bob, dark eyeliner, lipstick that hinted at mystery and friendliness at the same time. “Vik'll be back in a bit, told me to keep an eye on ya. How're you feelin'?”

V grunted, wanting to turn on her back but that sharp twinge kept her in place, “Fukin' hurts.”

“Oh!” the woman hopped out of view, coming back with a hypo cradled on her hand, “he said you'd know what to do with this? That it's fine to use in your condition?”

V examined the punch pen, tentatively took it to inspect better. She was relieved that she could move her arms without much pain. It was that magical cocktail of acetaminophen and ibuprofen, perfectly safe and over-the counter. The Med-Tech logo looked legit enough to her, so perhaps this girl could be trusted. She slammed the hypo into her thigh, wincing at the hit but forced herself to relax as the mild drugs slowly took effect. “Thanks.” V tentatively rolled onto her back, lifting her butt a bit to relieve the pressure. A crick on her shoulder was annoying her and she could never put up with rest on her stomach.

“I'm Misty, by the way. Vik ordered some Marv's for when you woke up.”

She could hear the strange woman move around, hear the rustle of plastic shopping bags and paper take-out behind her closed eyes.

V smiled, of course Vik ordered Marv's. “I'm V.”

A chair scooted close to her head; the smell of the food more intense. V felt it odd that she could practically visualize the sounds around her, almost see where exactly the food was, based on the shifts of the smell's wafting in the air. Disorientation hit her when she opened her eyes to see Misty sitting exactly where she guessed. “I know. Vik said this was your first chrome? Ever?”

V inhaled deeply, slowly exhaling as she lifted herself up by her elbows, grimacing as she felt the muscles in her back flex against the surgery she had just undergone.

“Yeah, I guess a processor was pretty major for a first time.” She rested her elbows on her knees, moving a pillow that had been placed at her incision site, and noticing the contrast of the blanket that she had surrounded herself in compared to the surgical plainness of the sheets and cot she was on. She was still in her compression bra, and had been slipped into some over-sized but very comfortable pajama pants. She wondered if they were Vik's.

Misty laughed a sound like fairies, “I was so young when I got my first implants, don' even think about them anymore, no offense.”

“None taken, I was just a little late to the game.” Misty offered her a wrapped half of a burrito, and she ate ravenously, absolutely starving after a shit call, a night of drinking, and some very invasive surgery.

She took the offered napkin to not make a mess.

“Hmm, not from around here?” Misty was enjoying the other half of the burrito, taking much smaller and slower bites.

V was almost finished with her food, and nodded, “Not around here at all.”

“New Mexico?” Misty nodded at the sun symbol tattoo on the side of V's neck, the North of its rays reaching to her scalp in an almost iridescent red.

Swallowing the last bite, V sighed at shook her head, resting for a moment before answering, “Joshua Tree, and around other places in the Mojave.”

“Oh! I've always wanted to go there! Is it as beautiful as they say?”

V wasn't sure who 'they' were, but she affirmed to Misty that it was, indeed, beautiful. “I took it for granted all my life. Night City has its own beauty but, I do miss the desert.”

The pixie-like girl brought her knees up, hugging them, “we often take our homes for granted when we leave, but we have to leave in order to properly appreciate where we're from.”

V nodded, fully comprehending, but didn't offer any response. For a few minutes she was lost in memories of the desert, of Doc Spiv yelling at everyone all the time, the kids she had grown up with. Washing sand out of cybernetics and cars, hunting hares with Tammy's hawks, the village's dog Chica who had died years ago, but tended to each child while they grew up. It wasn't until a small hand lightly squeezed hers that she realized tears had built up in her eyes. As she blinked, they fell down her cheeks. Sniffing, she wiped them away, refusing to all-out cry in front of this stranger.

“I uh, I came here for Trauma Team, that's where Vik and I met.”

“You two work together? That explains it, he's usually picky with new patients. I rent this space to him.”

“You got that uh, esoteric shop out front? It smells nice.”

Misty smiled, and she was the last thing you'd think of when hearing 'Night City Land Lady'.

There was a commotion outside of the clinic. She could hear excited yelling, some deep laughing, the door flinging open from the top of the steps. V wanted to get up and get some cover, but Misty's lax posture calmed her, and she rolled her eyes as she got up from her seat to open the gated entrance.

A large, samurai-cut man barreled in, speaking Spanish and laughing with shining eyes that did nothing to hide the blood on his face and slight limp. “Misty! How's it goin'! Where's the ol' doctor when I need him?” He spoke in a cadence that seemed like it was on the verge of him breaking into song, even though V could see that he was clearly injured.

Misty scolded him, inspecting his face in a familiar closeness, “Vik's not in right now, he had to do some Tee-Tee thing-”

“Not in? I planned this job for his day off! Knew I'd be needin' some patchin' up...”

Misty cooed and doted at his face, asking him what he had been up to and telling him to be more careful.

V took the opportunity to swing her legs off the cot, steadying her gate as she grabbed her old T-shirt that was been neatly folded on a counter beside her. “I can take a look,” she said as she slowly pulled the shirt over her head.

“Oh V, you don't have to-”

The big man interrupted her, “Oh, and who might you be?” His eyes narrowed; head tilted in suspicion.

V managed to walk somewhat normally over to the two of them, “Name's V. If it's cyberware you need I can't help, but some busted ribs? I got ya'.” she out-stretched a hand to the fellow to shake.

“This is V, Jackie, she works with Vik. At Trauma Team.”

Jackie uncrossed his arms, his posture loosening, “Trauma Team, huh? Well … if you work with Vik you might be decent ...” he grabbed her hand, giving it a firm shake.

Misty turned to V, an imploring look on her face, “V you just had an implant done, only if you're up for it?”

V straightened her back, waving a hand, “Nonsense, he's walking and talking, can't be that bad.”

She first changed back into her own clothes. Folding the pants carefully, smelling a scent that was definitely Vik's before laying them on top on the folded blanket she had used. Somehow, she doubted the rest of Vik's patients got such a special treatment. Then she turned to familiarize herself with the rest of his clinic.

It felt strange to use Vik's equipment without permission, like she was trespassing. But the familiarity between Jackie and Misty, and the fact that Vik asked her to watch over V while he was out, put together a picture in her head that this would be an 'okay' situation. She didn't want to intrude on Vik's territory, medics -especially doctors- could get touchy about their work spaces, so she only used and moved the bare minimum of equipment needed.

The boisterous man took jacket and shirt off as he told the story of his fresh wounds, explaining his merc work, how many eddies he just made for a busted nose, jacked up muscle augments, and broken ribs.

“Uh huh,” V rummaged through a drawer with various hypos prepped, she found one with osseous nanites, verified that it wasn't anything super special or expensive, then jabbed them into Jackie's side. The merc grimaced as the tiny bots did their job, knitting his ribs back together before they'd be absorbed into his blood stream and passed through his urinary tract. She then inspected Vik's diagnostic set up, familiarizing herself with the operating system before asking Jackie to plug in.

Inspecting a patient's body through the use of a cyberdeck was her favorite part of her job. Trauma was fun and all, but when it came to true mysteries, being able to see every little detail of someone's body to get to the root cause of their illness was amazing. With the quick scan she saw that some damage had been done to the synthetic muscle in his legs. Looked like a netrunner had tried to slow him down by overheating some rotors in his left knee, explaining the limp.

Obediently rolling up his pant leg, he gave her the go-ahead for a full inspection. Using his scan and some nifty sonogram gadget, V lined a long, thick syringe up to a rotor and injected some more nanites to do their maintenance job. She then gave him some steroids for the bruising and cuts to heal, and a mild immunity blocker so his body didn't totally reject the nanites before they did their job.

She was writing down everything she had used so Vik knew what to charge Jackie, when her ears pricked up before she heard a sound. There it was again, the near-premonition-like sense that crept to the back of her mind.

Vik returned quietly, almost scaring Misty when he moved the gate. “The hell's goin' on here?” His tone was accusatory but his expression was one of amusement.

“Just a little siesta while you were out, Doc.” Jackie lounged in the op chair, already fully clothed and basking in the afterglow of just being fully healed. “You weren't in, so your jaina here patched me back up.”

Viktor walked past Misty perched on his workbench, set some papers down by his computer, and took the scrap that V handed to him. “The supplies I used,” she explained.

“I see ...” an eyebrow arched over his shaded glasses, and he pointedly eyed his stethoscope around her neck. “I assume you didn't give Jackie his regular dose of scolding though, did you?”

V nonchalantly placed his Littmann away by his computer carefully, “No, Doc, I am terribly unqualified in that regard and it's frankly beyond my scope of practice.”

His smirk went from lecherous when looking at her, to comically silly when he turned to Jackie. Shooing Misty and Jackie out of the clinic, he promised a scolding on the merc's next visit.

“Now I have to make sure one patient didn't mess themselves up when tending to another patient. Got myself a kangaroo clinic here.”

When the two had left, V asked if he didn't want to double-check Jackie.

“Nah, I know your work, trust what you did was adequate and necessary.” He motioned for her to get up and turn around, lifting her shirt up when she did.

“It's healing quite nicely. How's it feel?” His hands were warm on her skin as he tested the gel seams from his incisions.

“Like hell when I don't have drugs in me.”

He nodded and crossed his arms, “To be expected. Most folks I work on have had chrome of some type all their lives. Body's use to it. Yours will have to adjust a little longer. By tomorrow you shouldn't even notice, though. Besides pain, anything else?”

“Yeah, might be just psychin' myself out, but I feel more … aware? Of things. Little things.”

“Hmm,” low, thinking, he tilted his head, “processors don't show much outwardly on their own. Without a proper output you may be getting the information it's gathering through other means. As we speak its farming tissue and growing tendrils of tiny cables in your body. Make sure you eat plenty so it can complete its job.”

“Thanks for the burrito, by the way.”

He grinned, “No problem. When's your shrink session?” He took a seat on his wheeled stool, studying the scrap of paper with the stock she had used and flicking through his computer to take note.

She leaned against his workbench, sitting on it slightly, “not 'til tomorrow.”

“Lucky you, I had to go for mine as soon as I was done with you.”

She crossed her arms, leaned slightly back and tucked one leg against the other, “Hmm, and are you? Done with me?” Again, that awareness prickled at the back of her mind, a slight raise in temperature as she languidly looked at Vik, and his ears burned a shade of red. _Interesting._

She detected a hitch in his breath, but his words were steady, “Think so, but if anything changes or the pain gets worse, lemme know.” He spun back towards her in his chair, “and thanks for takin' care of Jackie. He gets himself into all sorts of trouble.”

She decided not to push him, she didn't even know what direction it was that she wanted him to go. But the confirmation of his reaction to her was encouraging. “Thanks for yesterday, Vik. For just being there.”

He chuckled, “Anytime, kidd-” he stopped himself from palming his own face, and the red of his ears grew deeper, “Anytime, V.”

“I'm heading home, not far from here actually. See ya at work?”

He nodded, gave off a feigned salute, and she walked out of the clinic. Deciding to take the long way home, she avoided Misty's shop, wanting time alone and to actually get to know the Night City outside her doorstep. Being midday, the streets were full and bustling, people ignored her if she bumped into them, casting dirty looks of apathy as she wandered. She could feel the processor doing its work, taking in information from her senses and churning out new information: the speed of cars, the stress levels of those around her, the distance of the buildings before her. None of these were any numerical value, just an innate knowing, something processed slightly more consciously than without it. Her sense of direction was also improved, keeping her oriented no matter how many turns and twists she took.

The sun had begin to dip when her stomach rumbled deeply once again, and she turned back towards her megabuilding to go home, remembering the location of a diner not far from her residence.

She ordered two whole plates full of food, avoiding meat in general but feasting on fries, synth burgers, pizza, and any other sides that came with it. Vik wasn't joking about needing to eat.

She paid her tab, went home, and grabbed an empty box and threw all her cans of spam into it, setting it outside her door for whoever wanted it. Her meal had given her a spike in energy, so she set to work on tinkering with the gadgets that needed repair. Turning a broken Kiroshi lens in her hands, she realized now that she could bring in whatever implants she could acquire and simply ask Vik to install them. However, the quality of the things she had were not typically the best, and she was extremely picky about what she stuffed into her body. Slipping on some scoped glasses, she got to work on the lens, cleaning corrosion and soldering back tiny connections. The processor helped in steadying her hand-eye-coordination, letting her work more efficiently on the almost microscopic components. She worked well into the evening, getting lost in repairs and testing, until something nagged at her attention before her phone pinged.

Viktor's name and boxing-themed icon flashed on the screen. She swiped to read it.

>Hey V, Will put in a leave of absence

She expected as much, he had taken the call with the kid hard, and was talking about going part time at Trauma Team anyway. She hadn't responded to his previous message about going to Misty's Esoterica that morning, but she thought hard about her reply.

I hope he does alright. I know yesterday reminded him of his sis<

>I'm sure he'll do fine, maybe even find greener pastures

She didn't really want to talk about Will's leaving. She made a mental note to contact him tomorrow, she'd be missing the stupid kid. She left the conversation at that, wondering how Tom would take the situation, when Vik sent another message.

>So this leaves 142 with an open medic position. You in?

Her mouth fell open, realizing why he had brought this up. The invitation was excitement and relief all at once. She knew she'd have to go to another crew after her internship, but hadn't acknowledged that anxiety, knowing she could take whatever life threw at her. But to stay on 142? To have Vik as her partner, with grumpy Stefan and wonderful Tonya and probably silent Tom?

YES<

>I already requested you. Go to TT platform and request 142 as well, it'll help with their selection. See ya sky high, V.

She did exactly that, only after her request was submitted did she think on the implications this would have on her _feelings_ for Viktor. To be around him all the time wouldn't be too difficult. Trauma Team kept them busy, but could she stay professional? She knew he could, though she noticed the telltale signs that suggested the tension wasn't just one-sided on her part. She could certainly dial down the flirting; she didn't want to ruin a fantastic work relationship for the sake of jumping the bones of someone well out of her age range. She took Doc Spiv's advice, to not shit where she eats, seriously. But the thought of that twisted her guts, pulled her into a slight despair that she didn't want to feel. She wanted to be okay with this decision, to be chill and cool and _nova_.

Distracting herself with packing up her newly refurbished implants and accessories, she took the steps outside her apartment to the communal area where a shop that sold odds and ends bought her gadgets. She then took those eddies to the nearest vending machine and ordered an armload of prepackaged food. Back at her place she tossed on pajamas, got to eating, and sent Vik another message.

Request sent. I can't wait!<

Before she turned in, she received a reply.

> (;

What a fucking nerd.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's high time for smooches.  
> Follow me on tumblr sometimes I draw: https://coyotemoonie.tumblr.com/  
> Also hello to all u thirsty simps from DILF City

She clocked in, sliding an ID card instead of getting a non-existent neural chip scanned. A few “congrats” and “welcome aboard”s greeted her as she made her way to the inventory area. A large box of uniforms, pouches, long red gloves, and her brand new service pistol slid across to her from the gated booth of inventory. She pressed her thumb on a tablet to sign out the contents and brought the box to the changing room.

With a thud, she put it down, next to the large locker much taller than her. Fingers with chipped black nail polish touched the metal tag with her last name on it, tracing the indentations of the letter. Opening it up with a passcode, she began to disrobe. Her bomber jacket, flannel shirt, and boots fit well enough inside. Unzipping her new flight suit, she relished in the crisp smell that comes with out-of-factory clothes. She stepped in it, zipped it to her neck, then lifted the tactical bullet-proof vest over her head, adjusting the straps to snugly fit. Using the mirror in the locker, she placed pouches of hypos, medical gauze, and ammunition on loops on the vest and belt around her. Everything was so new, so clean and flat ironed. She had to rip tags off and remove plastic bags from everything. She hung up two other uniform sets in her locker, filling it up rather quickly.

Admiring her new boots, their teal color and bright red soles, she slipped them on and wiggled her toes inside. A perfect fit.

Lastly she snapped her holster to the small of her back, thankful that Vik was correct in his estimation of when her pain would subside. The pistol was loaded, she checked the safety, ensured everything was clean, then slid it into its place.

Tucking her helmet under one arm and carrying her top-of-the-line external cyberdeck in the other hand, she marched her way to the elevators. She felt empowered, the weight of her equipment holding her up instead of dragging her down, as she strutted through the medical center's halls. She had to keep herself from bouncing into the lift, but still beamed when Tom entered behind her.

His smile was all pride, but he said nothing, just nodded and pressed the button to the flight bay. Together they walked pass the other AV-4s, waving and greeting their fellow medics, gunners, guards, and pilots as they made their way to 142.

Stefan was topping off the fuel, laughing and greeting them. Tonya was checking her weapons, but a look of endearing accomplishment spread across her face as V approached.

“Well, well, well, look at our new medic, think she's up to the task?” Her head turned towards Viktor, already in full uniform and checking off stock.

He dropped what he was doing and bent out of the AV, looking V up and down as she settled with her helmet between arm and hip.

“Look's capable enough,” he reached out, pulling her close to him and giving her a hug that held her tight. Kevlar vest to Kevlar vest. “Welcome aboard, V.”

She pulled away before he messed up her hair, tied tight against her head to accommodate the helmet, “ready to save lives and piss people off?”

“With you?” Vik pulled on his helmet, his voice now amplified, “always.”

Stefan warmed up the engine, the boosters blasted against the ground. Everyone climbed in, securing themselves to seats, shifting and moving as the aircraft lifted off. The tones dropped over the com, and V received her first call as a Trauma Team paramedic with Viktor Vector at her side.

Restarting insulin pumps, shocking organic hearts into rhythm and resetting artificial ones to start churning blood again. Running diagnostics on unconscious executives, reviving over-dosed pop stars. Pulling broken femurs of fixers back into position. Slam after slam of hypos into chests, thighs, ribs. The hiss of a compressor over the heart of a politician, letting machines manually pump blood as she scanned the body. Her feet learned to shift her weight smoothly on fast and urgent flights. She and Viktor danced around each other, supplies pulled and procedures administered. Cracking open the chest of the son of a millionaire, repairing his synth lungs after a huge car crash. Tourniquets tightened, IVs started, stapling skin over spilled organs, sliding tubes down throats and giving air to needing lungs. Demanding bystanders stay back, taking cover during a gang shootout with the patient choking on his own esophagus. Staying behind Tonya, her weapon ready, as she and Vik combed through megabuildings and alleyways for the dying body. Tom shoving people back, raining bullets on city battle grounds to make room for Stefan to land.

Months of work, drained when she got home. A shot a liquor and a crash into her bed. Days filled with shooting practice, running errands, updating protocols. Small get-togethers with her crew, drinks at the Coyote, parties she wasn't invited to but knew of. Forgetting herself in a haze of booze and music, Vik sometimes by her side. Usually it was Misty and Jackie. Getting to know them through shenanigans and reluctant acceptance of invitations. She healed and fixed and brought back the dead and drank and ran until she felt herself running on fumes. The black hole of her work and life pulling every atom of her beingto the ground until she put her foot down, said “No.”

She wasn't taking that extra shift, she wasn't going to meet Jackie for drinks. She wasn't going to worry about the reports she still had to write so billing could demand money for Trauma Team. She threw her flight suit and blood soaked vest at the hospital's laundry and took a long, hot shower in the changing room. She scrubbed every inch of her body after the blood bath she and Vik had to wade through after a thirty minute shoot out between gangs and NCPD. She made herself stop. She stopped and stood under the hot water, inhaling the steam surrounding her.

Fingers sufficiently pruney, she finally got out, dried herself off. She dressed and sat on the bench in front of her locker as nurses and other personnel came into change and wash up. Carefully pulling on her civi boots, she laced them up loop by loop, took a few deep breaths. She was going to go home, turn her phone off, cook some real food, and then sleep. That's all she wanted to do. She blankly gazed at the locker she was so excited about just six months ago, and hated it with every fiber of her being. Her flight suits were worn and sweat-stained. Her boots scuffed and treads smoothing down. Her pistol.

She hadn't had to use it yet. Tonya and Tom did their jobs well, but she had had to pull it on a patient who whipped out mantis blades after gaining consciousness. Vik had jabbed him with a knock-out hypo just in time, not before socking him with a fist, though. She had to shoot people before, but not as a medic. She hadn't had to kill as a healer yet.

Locking everything up, she shrugged on her jacket and paced herself out of the medical center. She hadn't even said goodbye to the crew, storming off after the exhausting shift and only thinking about being _away_ from work. Without even really looking at her surroundings, her feet automatically took her towards the nearest transit station, through the parking garage.

A welcome voice brought her out of her fuming, gravelly and concerned, Vik called out to her. He was out of his car, parked where he always did, only this time she hadn't stopped to see him off with some jokes and flirting.

He leaned one arm on the top of his car, wearing a gray T-shirt that fit around his impressive arms too tightly. “You doin' okay?” His brows were knit together, looking down at her.

She shoved her hands in her pockets, resting all her weight on one leg and threw her head back, “nah, Vik. I'm fucking exhausted.”

He nodded, rubbed his hand over his stubble, “they've been runnin' us pretty hard, yeah.” He shifted his stance before asking, “goin' out with Misty and Jackie again?”

Laughing, she shook her head, “fuck no. I'm turning in. Can't be running like this. Ain't healthy.”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a small, careful smile, “I got some beers, was gonna have a quiet fire outside of town. Wanna join me?”

Tilting her head, she chewed on the bottom of her lip, mulling it over. “No loud music?”

He shook his head.

“No one else? No partying?”

“I'm too old for all that, V. Just beers and a fire.”

She couldn't say no to Vik, “oh alright. I want to be in bed by eleven, though.”

He gave a slight nod, “yes, ma'am. Hop on in.”

Choosing a spot outside of Kubuki, he parked along the waterfront. Cars zoomed over the bridge above them, and commercials echoed through the district, but the spot was secluded and clear. Abandoned homeless tents scattered the area with some trash and debris. A ways away some other residents were having their own fire. Vik dragged an old oil barrel not far from the car, and V helped pile in some fuel and garbage inside of it. With a dousing of lighter fluid and a toss of a match, they had a fire, and from his trunk Vik pulled out a hefty case of Broseph. She cracked one open and tested the stability of a found folding chair. Viktor found one too and they positioned themselves close but on either side of the fire. She found herself finally relaxing, taking in the distant city noise and gulping down the cheap beer.

“So what's ailing ya?” Vik cocked his head, taking a deep drink.

She took a deep breath, “whaddya think? Work's been nonstop bullshit. And I'm always being dragged to 'fun' things on my time off. Just need a breather, y'know?” She leaned back into the dirty chair and spread her legs out.

“Plus the corporate stranglehold Tee-Tee has on saving lives is … fucking depressing.” She finished one beer and started her next. Vik did the same, agreeing with her.

They talked about work, their calls. V's guilt about only saving those that pay Trauma Team while leaving those with empty pockets behind. He discussed ethics with her, acknowledging the burn out she felt. More beer was drunk, and some fun stories were shared into the night.

"I get it, trust me. We all get it."  
Of course he did, she knew that much.  
"You go into this job wanting to help people, save lives. But really, it's about the bottom line for Trauma Team. How much the execs make. We don't save people to save them, we do it so they can keep fillin' our boss' pockets."  
  
Elbows on her knees, V rolled the beer between her hands, the fire between she and Viktor crackling. She drained the last of her drink and tossed it into the flames, making a loud clanging in the oddly quiet night. Well, quiet for Night City.  
  
"Is there any job not entirely soulless to work here?" She got up, stretching her legs, and realized the number of beers she'd had were probably too many. Beer hangovers were her least favorite of hangovers.  
  
"A few," her partner leaned back in the old patio chair, threading his fingers together behind his head and spreading his legs out, "doing ring-side work was pretty fun, I got paid to watch the fight."  
  
She crossed her arms against the night's cold, "why don't you do that full time? Or ripper work?"  
  
"It doesn't pay that much, the big leagues already have REO contracted. I just pick up informal gigs here and there. Ripper work is good and all, but Trauma Team keeps my blood pumping." She noticed the number of bottles discarded by his seat were quite a bit more than hers. His eyes were half lidded behind his glasses, a sort of silly smirk was plastered on his face.  
  


"You should come by sometime to a match, you get to really patch people up, repair cyberware, maybe even do some stitches."  
  
She circled around the fire, "that sounds pretty fun actually," Trauma Team's tech practically did everything for them, practical skills were hardly ever needed. Shoving her hands into her back pockets, she kicked some rubbish into the fire. Dust trailed from her boot.  
  
He smiled, those laugh lines of his showing up, "oh, we'd have _all_ kinds of fun together in the ring."  
  
Her heart seemed to have some sort of arrhythmia as she balked at Viktor, her head swimming with how fast she had turned towards him.  
Surely, he didn't mean that the way it had sounded? His eyes were now hidden by the fire's glare in his lenses, but the grin on his face was one-hundred percent shit-eating. Viktor most definitely knew what he had just said.

Since they had become partners, flirting had become a public show of affection. They both seemed to avoid it in private, both skittering the line they were hesitant to cross.   
She tried to think of a response to play off his remark, they were both drunk, she must have misinterpreted his words. Apparently she was taking too long, his smile disappeared and his brow furrowed as he stood up and was suddenly very, very close to her.  
"You okay, V?"  
His hands went to her wrist, taking a pulse.  
"You drink too much?"  
  
V chuckled, he was probably analyzing her vitals, she couldn't imagine what her face must have looked like a second ago.  
"Oh, yeah yeah," laughing at her own silliness, "it just sounded like you were hitting on me for a second there." She stepped back from him. His arms were too strong, his shirt too tight, and the way he looked down at her with concern was far too intimate.  
  
His smile came back and his chuckle was lower, "oh, well that's because I was."  
He was closer than before now, his fingers lightly touching her hip, "because I _am_ hitting on you."  
  
V's pulse thudded in her throat, nearly a year of not even allowing thoughts of this incredible man to play out in her mind now broiling over. She had been content with his mentorship, then partnership, then friendship. She never expected anything more, and the only thing she could squeak out was, "you're drunk."  
"Jus' bein' honest, sweetheart," a strong, callused hand slowly followed the curves of her face, and she found herself extremely warm. Her face was burning and the fire next to them wasn't helping. A thumb stroked her bottom lip.

“Don't think I'm alone in this, am I?”

She shook her head, gaze flicking from his eyes behind his glasses, to his mouth, and back.  
  
He kissed her hungrily, sloppily, drunkenly, but fuck was it what she needed. Teeth clashed and his stubble scratched against her skin as he gripped her hair and pulled her hips against his. V clung to the back of his neck, traced the muscles of his arms, shoulders, chest, she gasped into his mouth as his bulge rutted against her. Their legs tangled as they clung to each other while Viktor led her backwards until her back hit his car and their desperate movements gained friction.  
  
Viktor's want for her, his grunts, exhalations, moans, the way he clung to her, wanting her body on every inch of his, she felt all this in their frenzied movements. She new he _needed_ her, and she was desperate for him.   
In a clean, quick motion he popped the door to the rear of the vehicle with one hand, and scooped V up under her bottom with his opposite arm, giving out a grunt as he hoisted her into the back seat.  
  


She actually _squeaked_ in surprise as she bounced on the length of the seat. Viktor's confident smirk was back, he ducked into the car, pulling the door closed as he straddled V, seemingly proud of throwing her off guard.  
She rolled her eyes at him. The medics caught their breath for a moment, but their shared giddiness shifted in the quiet of the car. V lifted herself up closer to Viktor, resting her weight on her elbows. Viktor took a second to remove his glasses, then rested his weight on his arms at either side of her. As their breathing slowed, he touched his forehead to hers, closing his eyes, the tips of their noses bumping together.  
She closed her eyes as well, the sudden intimacy was abrupt, but she was washed with the comfort and safety with Viktor.  
He kissed her, and she was back on the mesas of the Mojave. He nuzzled her neck, and she felt the warmth of the desert sunset. She combed her fingers through his hair, guiding his face back to hers so she could plant kisses along his jaw. He let out a husky sigh when she came back to his lips.  
Shifting his broad shoulders, he studied her. His eyes seemed to ask a million questions, learn a million answers.  
"You're too damn incredible, V." He whispered.  
  
And she couldn't go any further. Looking into his eyes, she realized that she wasn't just a piece of ass to him. This may have started as a drunken affair, but there was a year of built up tension, mutual respect, shared trauma, inside jokes, knowing each other so well that their work was like dancing. And neither had acknowledged this intimacy to the other, not verbally at least.  
She couldn't cross this bridge with Viktor like this. Not drunk in the back of a car just because booze loosened their tongues. He was her partner, and something like this could ruin the best damn team of medics Night City had.  
  
"We should stop," her guts twisted as she said it.  
  
Viktor winced, his face fell. But he slowly pushed himself up, and V righted herself as well.  
  
"Yeah," he stretched his neck, shook his head, fidgeted, "you're right, I'm pretty drunk, so," he left out a small chuckle, "sorry for uh, being a horny old man."  
  
"That's not an issue at all, Vik. Believe me, it's just we're drunk, and the..."  
  
"Timing."  
  
"Yeah, where we are, now, and like at work."  
  
"I know. I understand, V. You're right." His hand went back to her face, tracing her cheekbones and stroking the buzzed areas of her hair. He tucked a stray lock behind her ear and kissed her forehead. “Jus' know, this isn't some drunken impulse for me.”  
  
He fucking _knew_ her. And even though they both knew that the other wanted them, he knew she was right. And she _hated_ being right about this. She needed him, but this was so sudden, not entirely out of nowhere but she knew they needed clear heads for … whatever they had.  
  
The vehicle's autopilot took them back into the city. Viktor laid his arm on the back of the seat, and V rested against him. He walked her to the door of her apartment, they exchanged "see you at work"s.  
  
V grabbed some food from her mini fridge, smoked a blunt, and downed some pills in anticipation of the coming hangover. Then she put on an over-sized, worn Samurai tee, curled up in her blankets, and cried until she fell asleep.

\---

Something heavy and forceful pressed down against her neck, threatening to crush her throat. The iron taste in her mouth helped bring her back to consciousness, feeling dirt caked into dried blood all over her face, making it difficult to open her eyes. The night's darkness didn't help, she could barely make out the looming figure lined by moonlight above her. She reached up to the boot on her neck, tried to pull it away as she attempted to pull her legs underneath herself, to stand, to fight.

The pressure only increased, making her gag against it. She tried to cough, dust lining her mouth. Another figure appeared, this one not hidden behind armor and helmet, not holding an assault rifle to her head. His face came into view, pale with perfectly slicked back hair blonde enough to shine a halo around him in the night. The glow of a cigar burned from his mouth, and as he plucked it from his lips, he tapped it, allowing the hot ash to fall into her eyes.

“Quite the chase you gave us, there.” His words were long and drawled out. His eyes shined a florescent blue, the only way she could recognize the expression of smug superiority.

He disappeared from view, but she turned her head against the boot to follow the footsteps that crunched around her. Tammy's truck lay on its side, a black SUV ripped to bits in front of it. V's eyes darted about in the dark, desperately looking for Tammy, for the girls they had been transporting. She could see nothing, couldn't turn towards headlights shining on the other side of her.

“Now, what I have to ask, is what on God's green earth were you two _witches_ thinkin'? Stealing my precious … children away from me?” The man took another drag from his cigar, then motioned to the guard above her. The pressure from the combat boot lightened and V immediately scrambled to sit up, hands going to massage the blood flow back to her brain. All over her arms she felt road rash, fresh stinging scrapes and forming bruises. She still had trouble opening her left eye.

“Why would some … dirty, brown, _indians_ … be tryin' to kidnap _my_ daughters? My sacred … children. Birthed of the Lord's pure race, prepared for celestial duties? Snatched away by a bunch of … savage nomads!”

V breathed raggedly, her shoulders heaving at the pure fury burning inside of her. She had so many words to say to this piece of shit of a human being, but she didn't want to grace him with actual discussion. Instead, she settled with a well rounded wad of mucus, saliva, and blood spat directly in his face.

He didn't even flinch when it landed, he just slowly pulled out a kerchief from his pristine suit pocked and wiped himself clean, then nodded to the armed guard.

The butt of the rifle hit her hard, breaking the swollen skin above her eye and letting clotting blood fall out. The strike sent her spinning around, and she saw now, in the headlights of the untouched SUVs, Tammy's body laying on her back.

Her face was slack and limp, blood heavily staining her jacket around her abdomen. Her legs bent in unnatural directions, knees crushed and not from the collision of the vehicles earlier. V tried to crawl back to her friend, not being able to tell if she was still breathing. She went into medic mode, but was immediately snapped out of it as the guard grabbed her legs and threw her to the other man's feet.

She gripped the ground under her hands, her arms shaking with rage. Where were the girls? Where were this man's victims? Her eyes darted around, looking for them. Were they crushed in the collision?

“You may not know this, darlin'” he bent down, hands grabbing her throat and dragging her up to his level, “but your skin doesn't _completely_ bar you from the … Kingdom of God.” She was on the tips of her boots now, torn fingers struggling at this hands.

“As the Prophet of Mercy, I can be … _persuaded_ to ask the Lord for forgiveness. On your behalf.”

His breath was rancid. She smelled cigars and spoiled milk and fish and it was disgusting. She threw her weight to get away from him, but he held firm. Turning her head, though, she could see Tammy. So limp, open, her once strong companion devoid of life.

Until she saw the familiar flash of purple in her eyes, the telltale sign of the runner accessing the net.

In an instant, the armed guard convulsed, the cracking of his implants brought him to his knees and V could smell burning tissue as his synapses burned. Once the prophet's attention wavered, she brought her legs up and kicked, his grip on her loosening and sending them both to the ground.

The pervert's air had been knocked out of him, and she straddled him, one knee pulverizing his crotch as she went down, then laid down a succession of palm strikes to the bottom of his chin, his nose, giving him a final left hook before she got up, her body screaming in pain and fury. She saw more headlights coming from the desert's distance, but she didn't care if they were Spiv and the gang, or more fucked up goons from the cult. She grabbed the assault rifle from the struggling guard, lined the stock up to her shoulder, and sprayed bullets, ending him as his limbs twitched. She then stumbled back over to the twisted preacher-man, and he was probably trying to beg for mercy behind his swollen face, but she could not give a single God blessed fuck. She pointed the rifle at his head, and didn't let go of the trigger until his skull was a marred pulpy mess.

The vehicles from the distance finally pulled up, a mix of tricked out trucks from Joshua Tree and sleek NUSA and NetWatch vehicles. Sound was gone from her ears, the blood haze she was in kept her from hearing as Doc Spiv got out of his truck and started yelling at her, only hearing echos reverberate in her brain. Glancing at the prophet's SUV, she did catch a glimpse of small, young eyes in the back seat, staring at her in awe and reverence. The girls were okay. V turned to go to Tammy, hoping she was still alive, hoping she could save her...

But she woke up in her apartment in Night City instead, sweat clinging her shirt to her body and hyperventilating. On shaky legs she got into the shower, keeping the water cold as she remembered why she came to Night City, why she left her home in the Mojave. Tammy's cremation ceremony was when she finally decided to leave. She couldn't keep living there without her, remembering how frantically she tried to stop the bleeding, Spiv pulling her away from the corpse as feds rounded up the girls and started investigating the scene. Months of court testimony and threats on their village ensued, even though the astounding evidence of what was going on in the Arizona compound's pearly gates was clear as day.

She left as soon as things calmed down, refusing offers from NetWatch and NUSA agencies to work with them. She had wanted to get back to her medical techie roots, to polish her skills and live a different life, maybe one day going back to improve the quality of life in Joshua Tree.

Releasing Tammy's team of Harris Hawks was the last thing she did before heading to Vegas and starting her journey to Night City. Choking back tears, she remembered how one had perched on her shoulder as she opened their enclosure, its talons digging into her skin, but its beak preening her hair, confused that his falconer was not there.

The nightmare kept her from thinking about the previous night with Viktor, and she didn't even remember until she saw him in the hangar. Eye contact lingered when she recalled the feel of his lips on hers, the urgency in which their limbs grabbed and clung to each other. She banished thoughts of her past as she approached the crew.

“Mornin', V.” He said, no regret or disdain in his voice. Just a wink and a knowing smile.

She hopped into 142, “'mornin, Vik. You ready to rock?”

He laughed, “with you? Only all night long.” He slipped his helmet on, his familiar flirting setting her at ease. At least there didn't seem to be any hard feelings from the previous night.

Tonya let out a groan from behind her visor, “you two are insufferable!”

V couldn't stop the smile that threatened to split her face open, but she buckled herself in as the AV lifted off, slipping on her helmet. “Just remember, Tonya, this is all your fault.”

A gloved hand spread across Tonya's armored chest, “what, me? My fault? Nothing is ever my fault!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is plot gonna happen? Well, probably.


	11. Chapter 11

Tom's usual place was unusually busy today. V had asked what they had ready, grabbed some synth shrimp toast, and rushed out of the crowded eatery. She had had everything on the menu there, with how they had to go at least once every shift due to Tom's unique … palette, V tasted every combo and side they had to offer. Their sushi wasn't that bad, but it was pricey and she just wanted out of there.

The shrimp toast settled in her stomach like a big, greasy weight, but she was still hungry. The shift would be over in a few hours, though, so she hid in an alley behind the AV for the rest of the crew to get food or get sick of waiting. No one would be leaving before Tom got his udon.

Out of her flight suit pocket, she took out a pack of Slice of Life cigarettes, lighting one of them on the phosphorus patch on the box. Tonya hated these cigs, but they were cheap and hit the spot. She inhaled away, cherishing the small spot of alone time.

The AV's door opposite of her slid open, she heard hefty boots jump in and begin rummaging. She figured Tom finally got his soup until she heard a slightly concerned, “V?”

She smiled, “over here, Vik.” She could see his boots hit the ground again, a few steps one way, then a few the other.

“Where?”

She rolled her eyes, “behind the AV!.”

His head poked around to the alley finally, his face confused and eyes shifting suspiciously, “why you hiding back here?” He squeezed his broad shoulders between the AV and dirty building wall, his hand holding a box from the shop.

“Not hiding.”

“Oh? Looks like it.” He leaned one shoulder on the wall her back rested on, facing her, “hiding from me?”

She craned her neck to look up at him, “you? Never!”

He offered her the box, “saw you run off with barely enough to fill a Night City rat, help yourself.”

She took the box after flicking her cigarette away, eyeing him as she opened it to find a varied selection of sushi, “shucks, Vik, you shouldn't have.” She smirked up at him, and was about to pick up a piece with her fingers before he 'nah-ah'ed her, and picked the piece she was aiming for himself.

Before she could protest, a finger lifted her chin as his hand brought the sushi closer to her lips.

“Here...” his voice practically rumbled, and she was so taken aback that she complied, her face burning as he slipped it into her mouth, finger lingering on her bottom lip.

Her eyes didn't leave his as she chewed, feeling a mix of arousal, confusion, and suspicion. When she finished, he crossed his arms and nodded, _giving her fucking permission_ to eat the food he offered her.

She fed herself another piece, eyes not leaving the smug and almost proud expression on his face.

“So,” he said as she was chewing, “we gonna talk about last night?”

“Sure,” she popped another in her mouth, his eyes followed the movement of her neck as she swallowed. “Last night was nice.”

“I wouldn't disagree with that.” The gaze behind his glasses was demanding, prodding her for more information, but after this little _stunt_ of his, she wasn't going to give him more. She had many thoughts, concerns, and _wants_ , but now wasn't the place to discuss things that would inevitably turn her on.

Both doors on either side of of AV slid open, displaying their proximity to each other to the street. Tonya and Tom hopped into the back, with Stefan getting in the cockpit.

“Oh _there_ you two are, hmm.” Tonya threw a baggy of food near her post in the back. Tom cradled a large take-out bowl with a focused expression.

Viktor moved from V, his body like a boulder that had been shielding her from a mountain's high winds, now gone. She felt the full force of their close huddle's implications all over Tonya's face as she followed Vik into 142. She handed him the box of sushi, plenty still left, “here, I'm full.”

“For now.”

These quick quips of flirtation before take off were going to kill her.

“If ya'll are done, we're heading back to the hangar for some firmware and subnet updates.” Tonya had already buckled in, the AV lifting off, and had her plastic plate of food perfectly balanced on her knee with the movement.

Vik let out an exasperated sigh, “those take forever ...”

“Why do we need an update? Our protocols look pretty good from what I see.”

Tonya shrugged, using chopsticks and not hitting her teeth on them with Stefan's piloting, “just regular maintenance. I dunno. They'll probably give us a different AV while we wait.”

Unfolding her cyberdeck, V glanced at Vik before delving into 142's subnet. His eyes had rarely left her all shift, unless they had a patient. Then he had immediately switched to medic mode. He was nothing if not relentless.

“Because we don't have enough units, that's why.” Holloway was nothing if not almost as imposing as Tonya herself. _That must be why she's an LT_ , V thought to herself. “And we're not payin' you do stand around and do nothing.”

Tonya's helmet was thrown to the ground, rolling and bouncing under the lifted AV, “you want us to stay here, while your engineers dick around, but not pay us? Just give us another unit to use!” the guard's voice wasn't raised, but it boomed, it echoed and called the attention of every one in the hangar.

Holloway's posture remained relaxed, unfettered by Tonya's rage, “we're payin' you, just on-call rates. Sit tight and we'll have you ready in an hour. There's no point in sending you home.”

Viktor unclipped his vest, tossing it inside 142, “this is a pretty dick move, Holly.”

The lieutenant's expression didn't change, “it's not my decision, we need updates on the AVs, just gonna take longer than normal.”

Tonya was in her face in a millisecond, the taller women sneering at Holloway's hair, “I'll just be taking the longest, biggest shit while I wait on your _on-call_ pay. Might even share it with the board of directors. You wonder why I don't sign a contract with you? This bullshit's why.” She stormed away, the heads of medics, guards, and pilots following the wake she left behind.

V shook her head, the clash of management and workers coming to a peak again. She'd be paid a fraction of her normal rate while they waited for their AV to be maintained. But V was still new, had only been on Trauma Team a year. If Vik and Tonya couldn't demand more, she sure as hell couldn't. And every crew knew this would take longer than an hour. They were stacking the units throughout the shifts, and 153 had taken at least four hours to be finished. V could go home, take a nap, wake up, and be back again in that span of time.

As Holloway left after Tonya, V took off her Kevlar vest and began stuffing her pouches and equipment into the cabinets of 142. No point in being in full uniform while doing dick-all. She had unzipped her flight suite and was rolling up her sleeves when the sixth sense of her processor demanded her attention.

Expecting to see Viktor when she peaked out of the AV, she instead met a meek young man in an ill-fitting mechanics suit, and a choppy haircut.

He jumped when she asked, “who the fuck are you?”

V was somewhat familiar with the the techies and mechanics in the hangar, joking and smoking with most of them. She didn't recognize this one.

“Tod! I'm Tod!” he practically shit himself.

Carefully stepping out of the AV, she continued rolling her cuffs up as she looked him up and down, “riiiight. You new?”

He nodded, almost eagerly. She hoped she hadn't been this desperate acting when she had started on Trauma Team. “I'm here to do the updates, m-my supervisor will be joining me shortly.”

She lifted her head high as she inspected him, wishing she had ocular implants to analyze him with as her processor still tingled at the back of her mind. She didn't know if she should sympathize with him, or torture him.

“What, never seen the medic behind the visor?” she decided on torture.

“What? Huh? I, I uh..”

“Relax,” V reached back in the AV and grabbed her cyberdeck, “just take good care of her.” V patted the exterior of 142, “she's gotten me through a lot. Don't let her down.”

V left the kid with his eyes darting about nervously, flicking out a cigarette and taking a drag as she looked around for Viktor. He wasn't anywhere she could see, so she settled on just exploring the hangar bay itself.

After a quick shower, Viktor examined his face in the mirror, rubbing his 5 o'clock shadow and mulling over whether or not to shave. There was no word on if 142 was ready or not, but something told him V wouldn't mind if he left the stubble there.

He dressed, throwing on his flight suit and belting up. Tonya, in an irritated mess, came in to the changing area, holding an arm in her hand.

“Dear Vik, could you take a look at this?” The guard had recently showered as well, the medical center had an extensive spread of changing rooms, toilets, showers, you could be naked in the same room with a coworker and not even know it.

“'course, Tons, what's the problem?” She sat on the bench next to him and he took her right arm in his hands, examining her impressive gold-plated augments. He noted scuff marks on the knuckles.

“This...” She slowly bent her arm, at the middle of the motion there was a slight catch in the movement, and a click.

His expression darkened, “that's worrisome, when this start?”

Tonya sighed, “oh, a bit after I punched out a mirror over there. But my implants shouldn't be so flimsy, I've punched through worse with no problem.”

“Hmm,” he bent her arm once more, feeling the joint where the catch happened. “Don't move it anymore, there's some damage there that needs fixin' but I don't have my tools or shop with me right now. Go to maintenance, they'll have it done in no time.”

She huffed, actually rolling her eyes, “I really don't want to deal with any Tee-Tee brains right now...”

Viktor shook his head, “you're gonna have to when they find that mirror anyway. 'sides, techies hate our corpo overlords just as much as you do. Don't let this get worse just to save your pride.”

Tonya got up and awkwardly let her arm down, “fine.” She stopped before she left the room, turning to Viktor, “by the way, saw V mulling about something in the distance in the hangar, 'round where they store oxygen. She seemed to _really_ be thinking some things over.”

Vik lifted an eye brow, “that so?”

“Mhm, seemed to be smiling at whatever she was thinking 'bout too. So who knows. We may have a few hours more of a wait. She might need some help … with thinking.”

He found her tucked away again, sitting on some containers that overlooked the city. Neon lights and urban haze outlined her silhouette, and she had unzipped the top half of her flight suit, letting it hang over her belt at the hips. She wore a slim compression shirt that hid her tattoos and most of her neck, but did nothing to hide her hardened physique. Even though she had expressed interest in his boxing past, and watched fights with him and Jackie before, he never asked if she had ever partook in the sport herself. She'd do well in it, and there was money to be made for fighters not totally decked out in chrome.

“Hiding, again?” she turned at his words, and from the city lights around the side of her face he could see she smiled.

She adjusted her seating as he walked over, his arms crossing as he approached the container she sat on.

“Oh, nah, just needed some quiet, to think.”

“'enny for those thoughts?”

“Hmm” once he got closer, his eyes adjusted to the darkness, seeing her smirk perfectly clear. “Was just wondering what Trauma Team's policy was on fraternization.”

“That is a question.” He flattened his hands on the container she sat on, and in one fluid motion lifted himself up, cozily settling in next to her, her eyes wide. “Don't think they got one, sweetheart. Medics are a horny bunch, they'd be handing out incident reports left and right.”

Her eyes flicked over him, “explains why we don't have much drama in our crew. Don't _think_ anyone's fuckin' anymore.” She shifted her seating again, the sides of their bodies now flush against each other.

He wasn't fucking waiting anymore, either she put her foot down right now, or he takes her right there in the hangar, letting her moans echo for every damn techie and medic to hear. Reaching up to her face, he took her chin in his hand firmly, but not too hard.

“I can retire any damn time I want, if it's workplace drama you want to avoid.”

Her breathing hitched and face burned in his hand. He could feel her heart rate bang over her ribs.

“I uh, I thought you needed Trauma Team to keep that blood pumping-” she stopped talking when his thumb traced over her lip, his hand holding her head, keeping her face towards his.

“Think I found something else to do that.”

She broke his hold on her with a hard, long, and intentional kiss, practically crawling on top of him. He couldn't help but smile against her mouth, kissing her with an equal amount of demand. His fingers snaked through her hair, gripping it at the roots and that brought out a delightful moan against his lips. She swung a leg fully around him, straddling him, and his other hand found her hip, once again holding her there, not letting her go.

Small, but strong hands went from the back of his neck, to down his chest, and she pushed away, breaking their kiss. His other hand went to her other hip, and he held her there, looking up at her flushed face, her eyes hidden with dark lashes.

“Don't fucking do that.” Her voice was almost ashy with the need behind it.

“Do what?” his thumbs rubbed circles into her hips, she pressed into his touch.

“Don't fucking retire.” She leaned back into him again, her fingers tangling in his hair, “who'd watch my back?”

He chuckled as she kissed him again, more fervent this time, their tongues almost touching, but not quite. Her face bumped his glasses, and they flew straight off into a pocket out of the way. Their hands explored each other as their kisses grew more erratic, him trying to hold her closer, she trying to touch every texture on him, his mouth moved from hers, to the bottom of her ear, tasting and nipping at her neck, hearing soft sounds of pleasure coming from her throat.

When his attention turned back to her mouth, she managed to catch his tongue with her lips and _sucked_ , causing him to groan. As much as he enjoyed this, he had better ideas, his legs swinging off the container, arms going under her bum, and jumping down with her in his arms.

She let out a positively adorable squeak as she latched onto his shoulders, he knew exactly where to take them.

“What are you doing?!” catching her off guard was his absolute favorite thing to do, preferably when he was in control of the situation.

“Don't worry, I got ya.” He carried her through a maze of a few storage containers, trying not to get lost with her legs wrapped around him and her kissing and giggling distracting him.

Finally, he found the right one, kicking it open and setting her down on plastic-wrapped gurney cushions. She assessed their surroundings, arching an eyebrow, “nice digs, cozy.” She tested the buoyancy of the pile of neatly stacked cushions.

“Staked this out just for you,” he fell to his knees in front of her, shutting her snark up with sloppy, forceful kiss, making her arch her back and lay down against the supplies. His hands trailed all over the front of her body, feeling everything he wanted to when she had been on his operating chair, massaging muscle and cupping her breasts, satisfied with the hardness of her nipples through her shirt. Snaking his hands below said shirt, he focused his mouth's attention to the sensitive skin under the high collar she chose to wear today, pinching the tender skin with his teeth and feeling her fingers grab at his hair. When she began to thrust her hips at him, he held her down at the waist with one hand, and unclipped her belt with the other, pulling her flight suit down to her knees. He wouldn't disrobe her completely, they were still on the clock.

Under her suit she wore too-sensible black compression shorts, not that they did anything to dispel his need for her. They hugged every curve she had and by the wetness he saw, she wasn't wearing anything under those.

She laughed, breathy, trying to unzip his flight suit, but he caught her hands and pushed her down, following her with a kiss, “not yet, gorgeous.”

Her eyes narrowed, “you- you don't have to-”

He kissed her, softer this time, using it to lay her flat on her back. When he pulled away, he didn't dare look from her eyes, stroking her hair out of her face, “sweetheart, you have no idea how badly I _need_ to do this.”

Any sign of humor left her face at his tone, and he pulled her shorts down to meet their place with her flight suit at the ankles. He didn't bother with her boots, only lifting her legs over and onto his shoulders as he assessed her dripping core. She was neatly trimmed, and though he wanted to delve right in, he first focused on her inner thighs, holding her down with a flat hand on her stomach as she squirmed under him. She grabbed his hair, trying to lead him to where she wanted him but he was going to take his _fucking_ time. He ghosted along her lips, not tasting just yet, watching her become more and more frustrate in her movements.

“Fuck, Vik, please...”

“Hmm,” he took one long, slow lick along her entrance, lingering on her clit, “since you asked nicely.”

The mewl that came from her was feral, and he set to work building her up, tasting her, sucking her, coming back to the patterns and movements that elicited the most response, learning every little thing that brought her closer.

She had covered her own mouth with a hand, muting her moans and pleads. Her other hand tangled into his hair, stroking and not letting go as he continued. When he could feel her thighs tense more and more, he prodded her with a finger, focusing his mouth entirely on her clit. Her breathing increased, her heart rate crept higher and higher, she was so close-

A tone dropped through the hangar, that incessant AI echoing through the medical center that “unit one-forty-two is ready for her crew. Please return to your post.”

V panicked, lifting herself up by her arms and staring at him with wide eyes.

“Shh, V,” Viktor kept his finger inside of her, his face meeting hers as his free hand reached around the back of her neck, “they can _fuckin'_ wait for you to come for me.”

She didn't protest when he kissed her, again leaning down on the cushions, and he brought another finger inside of her, his thumb on her swollen clit and his motions gaining traction. The legs wrapped around him tensed once again, and he moved his mouth to her ear, “you know how long I've wanted to see you come?”

Her arms grabbed at his shoulders, nails digging into his back as she climaxed, the most delightful moan breathed into his neck and echoing in the shipping container. He held onto her as her muscles contracted and twitched, moving his head to see her expression of complete surrender beneath him. He cradled her head as she went limp, and when her eyes sluggishly opened he brought the fingers that had been inside of her to his mouth and sucked them clean in front of her.

She bit her lower lip, her gaze traveling all over his face, “shit, Vik. Holy fuck.”

He let out a low, self-satisfied laugh and kissed her again, drinking her in and knowing she could taste herself on him.

They cleaned themselves up quietly, V on shaky legs, both exchanging sly, bashful smiles between each other. Her braid had been completely undone, and he tried to help gathering her hair into something presentable. She licked her finger tips and tried to arrange his into some neatness, but both knew Tonya would comment no matter what. He helped dress her in the tight space, pulling her close for another kiss once she was zipped back into her suit.

She pulled her collar down a bit, “no hickies?” She asked with a very serious face.

He eyed a clearly forming bruise just under her collar, “oh, nah, you're fine. Beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes, and that earned her a strong smack on the ass as she exited the container. She yelped, but was smiling when she turned back to him and stuck out her tongue.

He was not going to let this go, not going to let her go, ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First time writing smut. Sorry if it sucks! I'll get better I promise!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working full time again. Unfortunately, this means chapters will come by slower. Sorry guys.

V had to stop herself from skipping to the AV, had to force thoughts elsewhere when her mind wandered back to what she and Vik had done just hours ago as they flew to calls and picked up patients. She could feel her face warm and ears burn when she caught Viktor's proud and secretive glances, his eyes sparkling and the corners of his mouth turning up as their gazes met.

“You're unusually giddy, today.” Tonya's face was hidden by her visor, but the accusatory tone was not lost of V.

“Hmm?” V buckled herself into a seat, they were on their way to a wellness check. A member had gone dark for a few days, vitals were fine but she wasn't answering the pings Trauma was sending her.

“Dunno what you mean, Tons.”

“You and Vik both seem quite quiet, even since we got back from maintenance. You two have a falling out?”

Vik spoke up, “how's your arm? You get it fixed up?”

Tonya's head swung to Vik, “yes, the techs did their magic, but don't try to change the subject! I can't have my medics mad at each other.”

“We're uh, we're not fighting,” V couldn't help but laugh a little, “honestly don't know what you mean.”

The guard's head rotated about, mimicking an eye-roll they couldn't see, “oh please, hardly a word said between the two of you? No flirty banter? V, you keep turning away from Vik every time he looks at you! Spit it out, what's the matter?”

Vik crossed his arms in his seat, shaking his head. His expression was hidden by his helmet but his shoulders were shaking with silent laughter. “Tonya I think you're reading too hard into things. V even shared a lil' snack with me during our break.”

V choked on her own air, sputtering in her helmet and doubling over as images of Vik between her legs flooded her thoughts.

Stefan's voice called back from the cockpit, V's translator showing what he said: “//They shared more than a snack on break.//”

Tonya switched the hand that was holding onto the ceiling rail, placing the other on an armored hip, “that so? They did seem pretty flustered when coming back to the AV.”

Tom piped up with some rare words, “and they were late.”

V wanted to melt into a puddle and fall out of the sky, her helmet's interior unbearably warm.

“Sounds like a whole lotta conjecture,” Vik, calm as ever, his voice not even stuttering, “I assure everyone that V and I are on the best of terms.”

Tonya's amplified laugh rang in V's ears, “Oh my! The _best_ , you say! Well, I can approve of that! V? Are you alright?”

The only thing V could do was nod, and clasp and unclasp her hands as she fidgeted under Vik's stare. She couldn't see his face, but she could imagine his smug, high and mighty expression under his helmet.

The patient was fairly easy to locate, and as the daughter of some high-ranking Arasaka official, it wasn't too odd that she had turned her Trauma chip off for a few days of partying it up. What was odd, was that she was still unconscious, but V and Vik pulled her onto the gurney, away from the back alley slum behind Dickie Twisters they found her in, and started their hook-ups.

“She's fine, go ahead Stefan.” Vik began to radio in as V plugged the girl into her cyberdeck, starting several diagnostics and a deep scan. Her brain appeared to be dreaming, more than likely sleeping off whatever she had taken over the past few days.

“Yo, Vik, try an iso stick.”

V shrugged and snapped a stick of isopropyl alcohol in half, then stuck it under the girl's nose. Usually just used for sanitizing, sometimes it would jolt someone awake without pumping them full of drugs. Her vitals stayed the same, and she didn't wake up.

The deep scan wasn't quite done, and as they were in the air already, V didn't think any complicated intervention would be needed before they got her to the hospital. She took a red-gloved hand and rubbed hard on the patient's sternum with her knuckles.

Nothing.

Vik and V shared an worrying glance. If she were just sleeping, that would have woken her up. As the scan finished, the girl began to convulse in slight tics. V helped Vik turn her over to her side as gagging began, and puke bubbled out of her mouth, spilling all over the floor and getting on the cyberdeck's wire.

Vik grabbed some tubing and began to suction the airway clean, and V took a close look at the scan, looking at all her organs and implants. She had a remarkable number of implants, and that didn't match up with her medical history. Why have synth lungs at seventeen with no respiratory issues? Her internal cyberdeck was an impressive model at well, something you'd see in an Arasaka employee, not his daughter.

V flicked over to chemical levels, and her stomach twisted at the high amounts of dead nanites she saw floating around the bloodstream. She brought it to Viks attention.

“You only see that with someone who's undergone some intense chrome work recently. This is full-body-conversion levels. Look,” Viktor flicked to the immune system's diagnostics, “her system's completely suppressed, so's the body doesn't reject the implants. And shit, does she have a 'ganic organ left in her?”

“You think this work was done recently?”

“Maybe, that many nanites for healing incisions and scars? She didn't want-”

The cyberdeck's screen flickered and glitched out, sparks flying under the keyboard and at the girl's biomon connection.

“What the shit was that?” Tonya leveled her rifle at the patient.

“Dunno, maybe we should land?” V turned to the cockpit to talk to Stefan, and Vik had his hand on his helmet's com when the interior lights of the AV flickered, then burst. LEDs cracked and exploded, their monitors scrambling and frying.

“She's a fuckin' trojan!” Vik yelled, the AV lurching port in the sky, and V could see Stefan slumped over the controls in the cockpit, his helmet smoking.

“Oh fuck, oh fucking fuck-” Tom was convulsing, sparks shooting from his joints, his uniform smoldering from the inside.

V's helmet HUD went absolutely insane, the information scrambled beyond all reason, random images -some from commercials- blocking her vision. The AV's decent made her heart jump into her mouth as she threw the helmet off, watching it fly and bounce against the wall.

A guttural, ear piercing scream came from the back of the unit, and V held on to whatever she could as she turned around and saw Tonya shoving the muzzle of her own rifle against her own chin.

Vik had lost his balance, being flung against a wall, but he lurched at Tonya, grabbing her arm and yanking her aim away. Mechanical gorilla arms against organic boxer's strength, they struggled, Tonya pleading against the deamon infecting her.

A single shot was fired, splitting open Tonya's helmet, sending shrapnel to her face but missing anything vital. Still, the medic and guard struggled as the AV fell through the city's sky.

“V! I can't see!” Vik yelled, his voice strained.

She was already on her way, clinging to bars and handles, she could see the white's of Tonya's eyes this close, glinting gold as she fought against whatever broke into her ICE. V held out her arms as she hit the wall behind Viktor, both of his arms locked and tangled with Tonya's. She heard a crack as he broke her trigger finger, an impressive feat with the amount of metal in that digit alone.

V curled her fingers around the opening of Viktor's helmet at his neck.

“Do it!”

She lifted and twisted it around his head, but the opening mechanisms had been locked shut, blinding him with his own HUD. Grabbing a wrench magnetized to the oxygen tank, she hooked an arm around a wall handle to support herself, and stuck her useless cyberdeck against the back of Vik's neck.

“Gotta pry it,” she told him, gritting her teeth as she dug the wrench under his helmet, where tubes and wires made it most vulnerable, and use the cyberdeck as leverage. With one good crank downwards, the helmet split and chipped, and she then used her hands to pry it open and get it off his head.

He was covered in sweat, his only cybernetic eye glowing blue. Maybe that was blinding him, maybe he was fighting off the attack. Either way, V was useless without a working cyberdeck.

“V, you gotta shut Tonya down- I can't keep-”

“EVERYTHING is fried Vik!”

Everything flipped, the AV hitting the side of a building and sending it into a spin. V's ears popped in her head with the change in air pressure. Viktor lost his grip on Tonya, but the force sent her gun flying out of her hands and out the gaping hole that now existed in 142's side. He grabbed Tonya by the belt, and V grabbed him by his vest, grunting at the sheer strength it took to keep her hold on the AV.

Viktor's free arm reached behind him and grabbed onto the handle she had been holding onto for dear life. She let go of him and grabbed a carabiner off her belt, hooking them together, then using another to latched them to the handle. She then reached for Tonya, her face limp and extremities flinging with the direction the crash took them.

Connected at the hips, and staring down at the city from the hole blown through the AV, V looked to Viktor. His entire face was covered in sweat, his lip has been split in the struggle with Tonya. She could feel sweat trickling down her neck as well, they both were breathing heavily, throats raw from yelling.

He turned his head towards her, his sharp eyes not leaving hers, “just hold onto me, V.”

She tightened her grip on Tonya's belt, feeling the rubber of her gloves wear down to her fingertips. Her other arm clung to Vik, around his shoulder. Their best bet in surviving this was to minimize their movement within the aircraft. The more they were tumbled and thrown around, the more likely they'd be injured.

V closed her eyes tight, feeling their decent in slow motion, bracing for impact as the ground grew closer and closer. She felt a bloodied kiss on her forehead.

“I got you,” Vik whispered.

And 142 was tumbling,

spinning,

falling.

\---

“We gots our bunch, heading to the rendezvous point.” Doc Spiv's voice snapped, V could hear his eternal aggravation from over the radio.

“Ten-four, Spiv.” Tammy replied, slamming the mic back on the dashboard. Silence enveloped the interior of the truck. Lights off, engine off. Crickets and frogs could be heard outside, the windows rolled down. Radio quiet was of the utmost importance tonight, their vehicle nestled between Joshua trees and shrubs outside the skirts of the sprawling valley compound. V brought a pair of binoculars to her eyes, sticking her head out of the passenger window. Night vision showed high walls, barns, numerous clusters of plain housing, and a stark white temple in the far distance. The moon was nothing but a sliver in the sky, and even without aid she could see it reflecting moonlight from their position low in the hills.

Tammy picked up the cyberdeck in between them, checking their subnet's security and watching out for anyone poking around. “See anything?” The older women's brows were furrowed, her hair hanging over one shoulder.

V sat back in and shook her head, “Nothing.”

A ragged sigh escaped Tammy's lips. She rolled up her denim jacket's sleeves, pulling her personal jack from her wrist and connecting it to the truck's deck. “I'm doing a quick sweep with the drone. Keep an eye on the subnet and the field?”

“'course.” V watched as her friend's eyes glowed a deep purple, and from the top of the truck's exterior a motor whirred and she watched the matte painted drone zip away into the darkness. It had been lent to them by Netwatch for this gig.

V kept her eyes on everything around them, checked the messages from the cyberdeck. No replies since yesterday's confirmation that _yes_ , tonight was the night.

The silence of the night set her on edge, until Tammy's limp form twitched, her tips slowly moving from beyond cyberspace. “To the east. They're hiding in the open.” The purple glow abated, she disconnected, and V let relief wash over her, followed by more tightening in her chest.

“There's quite a few of them, we have enough shards?” Tammy slammed her foot on the break pedal, then unhitched the emergency break. Without turning the engine, the truck slowly moved forward down the hill, Tammy turning the wheel towards the left, where she had seen their targets.

“I programmed like twenty, should be enough.”

Tammy grunted approval, pressing and releasing the break, avoiding the sparse trees and bushes in the dark. Close to the bottom of the hill, she lifted her foot completely off the break to have enough quiet momentum to make it to wherever she had seen on the drone.

V took to the binoculars again, trying to see if anyone from the compound was patrolling this far away, and was confident that no one was.

Tammy slowed when a somewhat pronounced rock appeared before them. She stopped and parked about twenty feet away, “they're in a little dug out here.” Her voice was quiet, hushed.

V grabbed a bag full of medical supplies, and the two women quietly opened the door and got out, making their way in the dark. As they approached, she could hear a soft, scared whimpering, and hushed commands.

“Angela?” V whispered. She was close now, but she didn't want to scare them off.

The whimpering immediately cut off, and a small head popped over the rock. The moonlight caught in messy brown hair as two wide, blue eyes peered back at her.

“Vee?” the voice was almost a speak.

“Yes, come on, we have to be quick!”

Excited, hushed voices erupted, and from behind the rock six girls tumbled out, rushing towards V and Tammy. They were all small, Angela being the oldest at what V guessed could be fifteen, and wore their hair in similar up dos that had been messed up on their trek from the compound. Ankle-length prairie dresses donned all of them, and in Angela's arms was a small baby, swaddled in dirty blankets.

The oldest girl looked up at V in awe, holding the child in one arm and enveloping her in a clinging hug with the other, “you came! You're real! You're not just a test!”

Tammy and V hushed all the girls, ushering them back into the truck, and once all were settled, V brought out the box of shards.

“'kay, now if any of you have any shards you've been forced to slot in, time to take them out now. Put these ones in just for tonight, so they can't follow us.”

The other girls looked up to Angela before she nodded to them to do as V said, and all five, excluding the baby, took out harsh red shards that had been in their heads all their lives. An almost reverence followed in the act of placing them in V's hand, and there was hesitation, but obedience as they slotted in the shards she gave them.

“Alright, now we get outta here.” V turned to Tammy, and the woman nodded back. Revving up the truck so fast the wheels sprayed sand everywhere, the lights blasted on, and the girls clung to each other as Tammy drove like a flash flood was behind them.

The ride was fast and bouncing, V almost biting her own tongue with the way Tammy drove, but she held on as she checked over the girls. She asked for names, approximate ages, asked if the baby was Angela's brother.

V's heart sank at the girl's answer, “n-no. He's my son.”

A fire so hot, she felt it sear through her very soul, burned within V. She gave a glance to Tammy and her eyes were just as hard. The truck accelerated faster up the hills.

Once they reached the highway and the ride became smoother, she radioed in that they were on their way. Soon, two more acknowledgments were communicated, and that was everyone from Joshua Tree that had joined this excursion.

V climbed into the back with the girls, checking them over. She noted bruises, cuts. Burns. She took their vital signs and asked them things about their favorite colors, what TV shows did they watch, what was their favorite subject in school?

They had little to say, but seemed resilient in the face of their abuse. She made sure they sipped water, and fed them packaged food that they gobbled in seconds.

This highway off Route 40 heading west was typically empty. Not much travel to and from a self-sufficient cult compound in the middle of nowhere. When a pair of headlights appeared about half a mile behind them, V went to confirm that it was someone from their caravan.

“Negative, we only just reached marker two-two-five.”

She and Tammy shared a silent _shit_.

V pressed her thumb against the mic's button, “we may have a tail.”

Spiv's gravelly voice cracked on next, “Marcus, get off the road and just take forty towards fifteen. V, how far out are you?”

Tammy answered this time, “bout twenty miles.”

“Me n' some feds are heading your way. Fuckin' drive.”

V instructed the girls to keep low and not let their head peak over the windows. Tammy switched the truck to auto briefly as the two women awkwardly switched positions in the front seats. V's companion jacked into the truck and her eyes glazed to purple once again. On the truck's roof she heard the turret rotate and click to life.

V's boots were lead as she revved up Tammy's impressive engine, one hand on the gear shift and flying over two-hundred down the road. The girls' wide eyes shined with brimming tears when she looked back at their huddled forms.

“They're gaining, it's them.” Tammy's mumbled voice told her. The rear view cameras confirmed it. V grabbed the mic once again.

“Spiv I'm heading off road north. Meet ya in the middle.”

“Ten-four.”

V lifted the engine out of gear as she veered off the road, the truck shredding guard rails in its path. She shifted lower and the girls yelled as the drive went from smooth to bumpy once again. Luckily the terrain was flatter than the valley they had escaped from.

The headlights of a black SUV followed, but fell slightly behind as V heard the _thud, thud thuds_ of Tammy working the turret.

A loud _crack_ hit the rear window as the treated glass stopped a large caliber bullet. V began to weave a path through the land, never letting herself go below one-hundred miles and hour. She just had to keep this up until she could see Spiv in the distance.

Tammy hissed, a grimace on her face, “they're trying to jack our subnet.” The turret stopped its cover fire as she fought off the silent attacker.

“Oh Prophet of Mercy, please protect and forgive us-” one of the girls began to mutter, until Angela yelled at her to stop, “He won't protect us! He only ever _hurts_ us!”

Another bullet hit the diver's side camera, and V was thankful it only cracked the mirror's glass. She kept driving, weaving around boulders and avoiding a gulch to the right.

“Got 'im!” Tammy yelled, and the turret was back on, raining hell on their tail. The SUV was so close now, V could see the figures leaning out of windows with impressive guns in their arms. One silhouette went limp as Tammy did her magic, until V felt the truck's back end lurch and drag, eliciting a scream of the girls.

Their combined speed and sudden blow-out made a fishtail turn into a vortex, the baby wailed out a cry and Tammy grabbed V's arm in a death grip. In the spin, V could see more headlights in the distance, hoping, begging whatever gods were out there, that it was Spiv. She yanked the emergency break and the turret's fire stopped, the truck skidded in the circular motion but kept going, momentum taking it towards the gulch.

As soon as the hood of the car faced away from the chasm, she released the break and shifted again, slamming the pedal for her entire life.

The compound's SUV had caught up with them, but just in time for V to ram the tuck into it's passenger side, sending both vehicles tumbling,

spinning,

falling.


End file.
